Lying Helpless in Her Arms
by ohmystarisfading2013
Summary: For the first time she was seeing him without his facade; he was begging her to forget everything and just kiss him. "Or we can enjoy our time in here, Mudblood." It was as if Hermione lost all thought and inhibition as his lips collapsed against her own.
1. Something Unexpected

A/N: I do not own any of these characters, as much as I wistfully wished I did, they are figments of JKR spectacular imagination.

This is** not** a smut story,** nor** is it mushy. This story follows J. Ro's characterization to the point and therefore, Draco and Hermione will not lapse easily into a happily ever after. This story is about two broken souls who are affected by a war; "Lying Helpless In Her Arms" is a tale of humor, drama, angst, and healing. They are two separate characters on a journey - and only time will tell.

This is their story.

* * *

His laugh was chilling and hollow. She half-heartedly attempted to suppress a cringe and retracted two steps. In the transient light she could see his lean sinewy silhouette, accented muscles through a thinly crisp Oxford shirt, and platinum blond hair still slicked back. She crept back against the wall and plastered herself to the cold bricks. Since he was unaware of her presence, she took the time to peruse him. He was still tall, six foot at least, and had maintained his Seeker figure over the winding years. From the illumination, she could see his faint frown and vacant grey orbs. Five years had aged him. Not physically-he was still painstakingly beautiful and flawless- but emotionally scarred through the years of war, hardship, and reconstruction. His once asinine eyes were now opaque and sage; his lips -which had been permanently snarled during Hogwarts days -were thin, chapped and straight. He no longer strutted but instead moved slowly and patiently. There was a calculated svelte and serenity to his gait. He was still the same sneering ferret Hermione remembered, but she could not dispel the harrowing fact that there was something so different about the man.

She could not put her finger on what exactly had changed.

As he moved in her direction, Hermione's breath hitched. Malfoy froze in his tracks. Languidly, he turned and caught her chocolate mousse eyes. Her breathing became more haphazard and ragged. Their eyes locked and Malfoy headed towards her. His voice was arrogant but soft, as though leashed.

"Granger," he purred.

"Nice to see you too, Malfoy."

"The altruistic, magnanimous, zealot, insufferable know-it-all Granger," he continued as though she hadn't interrupted his monologue.

"No need to recite my resume, Malfoy."

He snickered.

"I see these years haven't marred your quips and retorts," he mused.

"You say that as if you haven't known me for several years."

"Touché."

He was silent now, but not because he lacked anything to say to her. Instead, Malfoy grazed his eyes achingly slow over Hermione's petite body. She crossed her arms self-consciously and fought to hide her crimson fresco. Malfoy merely chuckled.

"Granger…"

"Yes?"

"I don't mean to come off… forward," he began.

"You always have, so I assure you this won't change my opinion of you."

He smirked, and oddly made Hermione flush. It suddenly became hot, and she flustered, realizing his close proximity to her. He was inches away, bending over her with his arm rested above her head to steady his stance.

"What exactly are you doing in the Manor cellar, Granger?"

Hermione's eyes widened. She would remember to hex Harry for saying she was over-prepared and acting pedantic about this inspection. She was a bloody fool for not expecting to be found by Malfoy so quickly. Think, Hermione, seen by Malfoy so quickly. Think, Hermione, think.

"Uh, I accidently Apparated here," she answered quickly, and then nodded for self-assurance.

Malfoy looked a tad amused.

"The smartest witch of our age, and she can't even muster a convincing lie? Blasphemy."

He gave her a snarky look.

"Let's try again, Granger. Why are you here?"

"Well if you must know, the ministry thinks you're harboring war criminals."

She wanted to punch the amused expression on his face.

"I was sent here to search and see what I could discover."

"Well you're doing a horrid near-Weasel King bad job," he responded with a signature sneer.

Hermione resolutely crossed her arms and jutted out her chin.

"And that's your new insult? Adding Ron references in your comments? How mature, Malfoy."

He feigned an expression of innocence and hurt.

"New? You know I've used Weasel in my insults since we first met on the Hogwarts Express. I can't believe how lowly you think of me, and my insults for that matter, Granger."

Hermione gritted her teeth with ire, already beginning to be aggravated by Draco's presence in her general vicinity. Her voice became quiet.

"We haven't dated in almost two years now."

Draco looked bored.

"So?"

"So?" she glared at him, appalled, "You can drop the Weasel jokes then."

"Not going to happen. Those jokes will always be funny. Just because the two of you aren't dating doesn't mean I repeal all rights to Weasel jests… and gay Potter jokes for that matter."

"Gay ferret jokes you mean," she clipped cavalierly.

His jaw twitched. Hermione knew queer Malfoy jokes were always his soft spot. She remembered that he'd pummeled a fifth year Hufflepuff during their final year at Hogwarts for saying something suggestive about his too-tight turtlenecks. Needless to say, the poor boy spent four days in the infirmary while Malfoy sat glumly on the bench that week during quidditch practice and the Slytherin-Hufflepuff match. Hermione didn't know why McGonagall bothered; the professors and Draco knew Slytherin would slaughter Hufflepuff anyway.

"Whatever, Granger."

He turned on his heels and stalked away from her. She breathed a sigh of relief until she heard his baritone voice calling her. It was laced too dangerously sweet for her liking.

"Are you coming or not?"

She grunted in response and trudged after him.

* * *

Hermione always found Malfoy Manor eerie. Hermione felt queasy here, as if the Dark Magic would permeate her insides. Malfoy's long strides were difficult to keep up with. She practically skipped behind him to match his pace. He had lit his wand and she'd followed him warily down the elongated corridors and dark passages. At one point, she had clutched his robes when a moving portrait had pointed its archaic Unicorns tail wand at her and wailed an eardrum piercing 'mudblood!'. Draco had smirked and Hermione removed her hands quickly.

"Don't worry, Granger. These portraits were charmed after the war not to harm Muggleborns and Half Bloods. You're completely safe. I'm here."

She inwardly groaned at his response. She did not feel safe or comforted by his words at all. She didn't even bother to hide her relief when they arrived in Narcissa's drawing room. In fact, she could have kissed Malfoy right then and there - if she were mad of course.

"Want a drink, Granger?"

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"No thanks… I wouldn't know if it were poisoned or not."

Malfoy gave another laugh and called in a House Elf regardless of her unheard cries. He asked Sperry for some Arabic tea and plain water for Hermione. She noticed the House Elf proudly bore two grandiose purple earrings. She mentioned the jewelry after Sperry left the room.

"We've freed all our House Elves, but every single one chose to stay with us instead of leave. We treat our House Elves much better than most, and they prefer to stay here in the servant.

"You've turned a new leaf, Malfoy."

He quirked an eyebrow and she color rise on her cheeks

"Hardly, Granger. Unless bolstering the Malfoy image is turning over a new leaf – I'd call it repairing the family name and _always_ being on top."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. Subconsciously, his eyes were drawn to the smattering of freckles atop it.

"People in the Ministry still think you should be punished you know? Spliced open in fact, or given the Death Eaters' Kiss."

He cracked a small smile.

"Spliced open? I don't know if I'd want Potter and his ilk to perform an abscission on me…"

Hermione groaned at Malfoy's sarcasm.

"Point being: if witches and wizards knew how much you've, ahem _changed_, they wouldn't be continually requesting for your murder, would they?"

He grinned.

"I didn't know my death was in such high demand."

She threw her hands up, exasperated.

"You're such an ungrateful arse. There is no use trying to help you."

He sat down on the armchair and nodded gingerly towards the love seat across from him. She seated herself.

"I hear you, Granger, I do. I just don't see why I should bother. I don't care what others think of me."

At those last words, Hermione suddenly felt something other than aggravation towards Malfoy. He was a changed man, she knew that. But he was also wiser, not puerile like he once was. He was a big enough person to disregard rumors and quasi-gossip. She wished she were the same.

"Malfoy…"

"Hmm."

"You've changed," she said matter-of-factly.

"As have you, Granger. You're no longer ugly."

Hermione glared at Malfoy who just smirked back at her. She then let his words sink in. He backhandedly called her… pretty. Had Malfoy hit his head on the way here? He must've since there was no way in Merlin Draco Malfoy would compliment her.

"No need to over think it, Granger. Yes, I just called you pretty."

Hermione blushed. She couldn't have been more delighted when Sperry entered the room. No more awkwardness with Malfoy, she monotonously chanted. Hermione took the glass of water from Sperry. She was about to raise it to her lips when she realized Malfoy was looking at her. Not looking, staring at her with an expression of fascination. She stopped and placed the glass on the table.

"Drink this."

"What?"

"Drink this water, so I know it's not charmed."

"You sure you don't want Malfoy germs all over it?"

"You're funny," she retorted, her words dripping with sarcasm.

Malfoy shrugged and leaned over the table towards her. He lifted the glass up to his lips and took a swig. He held her eyes for a few seconds, and she did a sharp intake. Brown eyes melted into grey. They both waited a second and then when nothing happened, Malfoy winked and handed the glass to her.

"Nothing to worry about, Granger."

Hermione responded in a small whisper,

"Lies. I always have to be on my toes around you."

When she caught his eyes they were dark, brooding even. His next words floored her.

"I never asked you to be."

She pondered his notion and took a sip.

"How's the Weasel clan?"

She arched an eyebrow.

"Since when do you care?"

"No need to jump to defense, Granger. I'm just making a pleasant conversation, but if small talk is too much for you?"

She raised her hand and nodded.

"They're all fine. Fleur and Bill are great. She's having her third child and Bill's excitement is uncontainable. Percy and Audrey are quite content. They've finally moved out of the burrow like Bill and Fleur and live in a cottage in Ireland with the two girls. Charlie's still not married since his job with the Care of Magical Creatures in Romania keeps his hands tied and occupied. George is still running the joke shop, WWW. Its popularity continues to skyrocket, its unfathomable sometimes. George's marrying Angelina soon and I quite like her so it should make for an enjoyable wedding. Ginny and Harry are celebrating their fourth wedding anniversary soon. I can't believe it. The Burrow is almost falling apart with all those children running amuck, I don't know how Molly and Arthur can handle it. Oh, and Ron's still single…"

She realized Malfoy was listening to her with rapt attention. It was unnerving.

"I'm done, Malfoy."

He blinked and arose from his stupor before nodding.

"That you are."

Hermione raised an eyebrow in light of this strange situation.

"And how are you, Malfoy?"

His eyes glinted gleefully.

"How kind of you to ask, Granger."

"Don't sound so unctuous, Malfoy. It's quite unbecoming."

"That's ridiculous. I've always been smarmy."

She rolled her eyes.

"I've continued work at Malfoy Industries. We're looking into cellular prototypes for the wizarding community," he told her.

"What?"

Her eyes widened. She gasped at him, incredulous.

"Muggle technology?"

"Right, Granger. We're updating it of course so it's more advanced for Witches and Wizards alike. You can perform verbal spells over the phone, sans the Unforgivables of course, and our next generation should be able to utilize the product to perform simple spells if you forget or misplace your wand."

"That's fantastic."

He smiled sheepishly. Hermione almost fainted; she never thought she'd see the day. Of course his smile was replaced moments later with a smirk.

"Glad you're impressed, Granger, but you should know my father already invested much of the Malfoy Industries wealth into muggle companies and corporations years ago. The bloody hypocritical git."

She merely murmured and took another sip of her water. This new Malfoy was giving her a migraine. The water suddenly became acetous in her mouth. She definitely had to get out of this now claustrophobic manor.

"Well seeing as I've deduced there are no war criminals lurking around the depths of your home, I must bid adieu."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Already, Granger? I'm starting to think you're scared of my company."

She scoffed, which made him sneer again.

"Hardly. I'm shocked your acting so placid is all."

"Well I didn't think you'd be so livid about it. If you want me nasty and vicious Granger all you had to do was ask."

She leveled her glare.

"I wasn't even suggesting that," she said lamely.

Malfoy gave a nonchalant shrug.

"We can chat if you'd like Granger," he drawled, "Or you can leave too. I really don't care."

Hermione sat for a moment. She put her glass down and arose from the plush velvet seating, heading towards the ostentatious wooden doors. She stopped on her path to the doors and looked back at Malfoy. He was staring out the windows, looking pensively. Perhaps this new Malfoy wasn't as daft.

"So what's your stance on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching conduct?"

He turned and met her eyes. She smiled at the handsome man lounging perpendicular to her.

"Well," he chided, his eyes sparkling, "I'm so glad you asked."

Their initial small talk became heated debates and Draco found himself both enticed and shocked by Granger's audacity. He realized they disagreed on as many subjects as they acquiesced, and he found it pleasantly refreshing to hear her opinions. Though he would never outright admit it, he took on the role of Devil's Advocate just to rile her up. Granger felt the same way. She enjoyed listening to how eloquently he spoke -probably an attribute of his Pureblood upbringing- and his silent watchfulness when she voiced her thoughts. It caused her to blush constantly when she caught his noncommittal gaze, but it took her a few minutes to realize he meant nothing of it. He was simply being attentive.

"My! Look at the time."

Malfoy glanced at his grandfather clock.

"I suppose you're right, Granger. Best be off."

She gave him a small smile to his slight grimace.

"Don't worry, I'll tell the Ministry you don't have any Lestranges or Parkinsons teetering in your home."

"One less qualm for me to worry about," he muttered before the ends of his lips curled into a soft smile.

"Thank you."

She returned his thanks and headed for the Apparation point.

"You're welcome to visit anytime, Granger," his baritone voice called from the drawing room as she left.

Hermione fisted her skirt and suppressed a grin. She had enjoyed Malfoy's company more than she'd let on. She felt like an infatuated teenager as she skipped towards the Manor gardens. Little did she know, she had left quite an impression on the young man inside as well.

* * *

Granger arrived home winded. Not from the Apparation, but from being surrounded by all things Malfoy for a near five hours. If someone had told her during sixth year she would have actually enjoyed spending time with him, she would have hexed them into oblivion. Hermione rubbed her temples, a headache showing no sign of mitigating.

Relieved to end her day, she lay down and closed her eyes. Her dreamless sleep was awoken a few minutes later by incessant knocking at the door.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Me! Ginny!"

"Oh, it's open."

Ginny unlocked the door and bustled inside, James and Rose clinging to her legs. Ginny dropped the groceries off on the table and sent her a 'help-me' look. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Come here James, Rose."

The two kids ran into Hermione and knocked her off the couch.

"Hi Auntie Hermione," Rose singsonged and kissed her forehead.

"Ew, that's gross!" James exclaimed from the other side of her.

"You're gross!" Rose screamed before jumping onto him.

"Now now…"

Ginny peeled the two off each other, putting James on her left and Rose on her right. They gave each other self deprecating grins.

"You will apologize this instance, do you hear me?"

They both matched groans and mumbled a not-so-sorry apology before skipping off into Hermione's spare bedroom.

"I swear these kids will be the death of me."

Ginny's weary expression called Hermione to a pot of tea. She poured some for them both.

"You survived a war, Gin, I doubt these kids are any trouble compared to Death Eaters."

Ginny scoffed.

"I swear they're worse than Malfoy some days."

This comment caused Hermione to splutter her tea. Ginny turned from the couch, a crease appearing on her forehead.

"You okay?"

Hermione mumbled a yes while dabbing her robes. Ginny continued,

"What annoys me is that Harry never helps anymore. He's so busy being an Auror he doesn't have time. And I understand he has a job to do, helping civilians and what not, but he should have time for me and the kids. It's only fair."

Hermione nodded, still rubbing the stain on her clothing. She gave up and _Scourgify_ed the spot clean. "He should ask for some time off. I mean, his father-in-law has that power at the Ministry.

"But Arthur wouldn't want to abuse it."

"Hermione, you just don't understand," Ginny sighed, exasperated.

"I probably don't," Hermione spoke softly, "Just talk to Harry about it, I'm sure he'll understand."

Ginny shrugged her shoulders.

"You're probably right…"

There was a comfortable silence in the room, which was short lived.

"MOM!" came a squeal from down the hallway, "JAMES IS PULLING MY HAIR! OW! STOP IT!"

Ginny rolled her eyes and headed down the hallway.

"James Potter, you will stop pulling your sister's hair this instance!"

She turned to Hermione, tying up her chestnut mane and shaking her head.

"Kids; they're worse than trolls."

Hermione smiled lightly and laid back her head onto the couch, tired from what the day had provided her.

She had this feeling, call it intuition, that tonight was was going to be one of many sleepless nights.

* * *

A/N: It has been pointed out that Rose is Hermione and Ron's daughter. I'm aware but this story is AU and therefore Hermione and Ron have not conceived a child; Lily's name has been replaced with Rose.

**Reviews would be adored as much as I adore Draco (:**


	2. Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice

A/N: I wish they were mine. At least leave handsome Draco for me, JKR. That's my only wish.

* * *

"Flipendo!"

The incessant chimes of Hermione's alarm clock ceased as it smashed against the wall. She moaned and pulled the covers off her face to let the light dance across her freckles - the first few minutes of the day were always the hardest. After bribing herself out of bed, Hermione slipped into routine: bathroom, hair, clothes. Hermione found herself staring at the mirror minutes later. She sighed at the groggy face staring back at her and cringed at the knots in her hair, just another occurrence in the very ordinary mornings of Hermione Granger.

She checked her watch - seven sharp - as Hermione entered the kitchen to serve breakfast. Ginny had thankfully cleaned up the dross from the messy dinner musical or whatever her two children had performed. Too tiresome to whip up some homemade pancakes with syrup, she poured some cereal and milk and ate quietly on her kitchen island. Her night had consisted of entertaining the kids while Ginny prepared dinner, then surviving their animal-like devouring of the meal, sending the Potter's on their way, and dreaming of Malfoy.

_Renege that, the images were more akin to a nightmare than anything. No way would I, Hermione Granger, dream of Malfoy's expert hands roaming down..._

She had woken up irritated three times that night; lack of sleep would not service the amount of work she expected today at the Ministry. She stabbed her spoon into the bowl. Malfoy was getting to her. She rolled her head, hands pressing against the pressure points in her neck and finished breakfast quickly. She slipped into her shoes by the fireplace and Flooed into the Ministry of Magic.

"Hermione, there you are."

Hannah Abbott dumped a pile of manila files onto Hermione's assistant's desk.

"These are for you. Arthur sent them down. They need to be signed, sealed and owled to their appropriate addresses."

Hermione however, was busy reading another file near Parvati's desk.

"Yeah," she responded inattentively to the peppy Hannah, "Just leave them here and I'll get right to them."

Hermione missed Hannah's beam and frolic out the office; she would have been relieved to know she'd missed it anyway. Parvati returned, balancing two cups of Ethiopian's Finest, envelopes, and folders Hermione had requested for bookkeeping.

"You are a lifesaver," Hermione thanked while grabbing the envelopes and folders.

"No problem."

Parvati put the two mugs on her desk and groaned, looking Hermione's way.

"More files?"

Hermione frowned, finally letting Hannah's unexpected visit sink in.

"I suppose so. It's fine, we'll get it done by five… six…"

Parvati groaned again and took a sip of her coffee. Hermione put the envelopes and files under her arm, and with Parvati in tow, carried the folders and her coffee. The girls attacked the workload for hours, until it was all complete… at seven. Two vials of Pepper Up potion lay strewn across Hermione's desk and the two women lounged tiredly in their chairs.

"I could sleep right now, Hermione."

Hermione chuckled and rubbed her eyes, thankful Arthur's bookkeeping had been completed. She hated working on a big task for more than a couple days.

"Wingardium leviosa."

The empty vials fell into the trash can with a flick of her wand.

"Want to give me the day off tomorrow?"

"I wish, Parvati, but the Ministry doesn't just let you take leave for working hard," Hermione responded jovially.

"I wish I got paid overtime."

"I hear you."

They cleaned up and set the office properly before turning off the lights and leaving. They were the only few in the building.

"Merlin," Parvati murmured in a hushed tone, "The Ministry is just creepy at night. Sometimes I swear You-Know-Who is going to pop out from behind the decorative ferns."

Hermione tittered nervously.

She said her goodbye to Parvati who Flooed from the fifth floor and pressed the elevator button to the forty-third. As the steel doors slammed shut, someone snaked their way through. One good look at his height and white-blond hair revealed his identity.

"Granger," he drawled upon noticing her, "Didn't expect to see you here so late."

She frowned.

"Didn't expect to see you either. What business do you have at the Ministry?"

"No need to be so formal, Granger," he said boorishly, "We're all friends here."

"Okay?"

"I'm here to see Potter," he snarked, "Not that it's any of your business."

He looked at the illuminated elevator buttons. He smirked.

"I see you are too."

"Doesn't take a genius to deduce that, Malfoy," she quipped.

He tilted his head at her and shook it to confirm she was actually there.

"Why are you going to see your appendage anyway?"

Her scowl was positively menacing.

"Glad you asked, Malfoy. Firstly, he's my friend, _not _an appendage, and I can visit him anytime I want…"

"Whatever, Granger," he interjected, "You're boring me."

She decidedly took back her changed opinion of Malfoy. He was still such a blasted git after all. Hermione glared at him and then stared straight ahead, counting the number of floors in the Ministry to avert her attention from the fantastical Crucio she was performing on a horrified Malfoy in her daydream.

The doors slid open on one of the many Auror floors and Hermione exited with Malfoy at her side. They both walked over to Harry's room. Hermione felt awkward with Draco so close to her. She wished he would go away and stop making vellicated touches on her arm when they accidently brushed. As if on cue, Harry exited his office with a mug of coffee in his hand and saw them approaching.

"'Mione!"

He enveloped her into a bear hug.

"Good to see you. Uh, Malfoy?"

The quizzical expression on Potter's face was one noted and savored by the Slytherin Prince.

"Nice to see you too, Potter."

Harry looked momentarily flustered.

"I would invite you both in, but I'm heading home early to spend some quality time with Ginny and the kids."

"She talked to you about it then?" asked Hermione.

"Talked to me?" Harry teased, "Screamed like a Banshee, she did. Molly had to send the poor kids to bed."

Hermione shook her head with a knowing smile.

"That's all fine and dandy, Potter. I'm here to discuss what I mentioned in our letters."

Harry's face deadpanned.

"Right this way into my office, Mr. Malfoy. Hermione, do you mind telling Ginny I won't be able to make it? It's a very imperative and important meeting, I assure you."

"And you want to leave me in the hands of an extremely magically unstable pregnant witch? Thanks Harry, but I'll pass."

"Please, Hermione," he pleaded.

"Fine, fine. You owe me."

"I appreciate it," he thanked quickly before heading after Malfoy into his office.

"Oh, and Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Gin's going to kill you."

* * *

Malfoy suppressed a grin as Harry shut the door – and Harry noticed, much to his own chagrin.

"And what are you so cheery about, Malfoy?"

"Just wondering what it's like living with the She Weasel."

Harry looked at him pointedly and frowned.

"I recall you said in your painfully polite letters you'd stop calling her that."

Malfoy sighed and gave a slight bow of the head.

"But just between you and me, she can be a living nightmare," Harry laughed.

Malfoy arched his eyebrow but remained quiet. His no nonsense look was recognized by Harry immediately, who quickly changed topics.

"The matter at hand…"

"Yes, Potter, the matter at hand is that Granger is fucked."

Harry shuddered at Draco's spiteful and icy tone.

"I was unaware you disliked her so much."

"Hardy har har," Draco sneered, "I don't _dislike_ her. I'd call it more a deep loathing than anything else."

Draco fidgeted uncomfortably.

"I just don't need a reason to prolong my father's stay in Azkaban. He's serving out his sentence, and he's got enough demons to deal with on his own."

"I know that, Malfoy, I just need more to run with."

Draco sighed and ran his hand through his white blonde hair.

"Isn't the mere fact that it's Rodolphus and Rabastan who plan to kidnap her enough for you?"

Harry looked at Draco decidedly, carefully thinking before he spoke.

"Perhaps things were that simple when you were a Death Eater but as an Auror, we run by concrete evidence."

Malfoy's fist clenched by his sides. Clenched and unclenched repeatedly before he slammed his fist on the desk inciting a jump from Harry.

"Look here, Potter," the angry blond spat, "Perhaps you don't care for Hermione's welfare, but I care for my father who'll be dragged into this fucking mess. They'll kidnap my mother and force Lucius to kidnap Hermione – or worse, kill her! I'm not willing to play Wizard chess with their lives, are you?"

Harry just stared at Draco, his mouth agape.

"You'll drool on the desk, Potter."

Harry paused and then proceeded to close his jaw.

"You know you said Hermione, right?"

_Had he? He hadn't noticed._

"So maybe I did. Did it get the point across?"

Harry rolled his sea green eyes and shuffled the papers on his desk.

"I can't change protocol Malfoy, but be sure that I'll keep a couple Aurors around Hermione's apartment."

"Well that's settled then, isn't it Potter?"

Malfoy shook hands with a bewildered Harry and turned to leave quickly. His Wizard cloak seemed to drag heavily on his chiseled shoulders as he reached the door.

"Malfoy," Harry asked quietly.

Draco froze.

"Aren't you forgetting protection for your father."

Malfoy's face blanked for a second, but he quickly regained his composure. He would never let Harry know his visit wasn't predominantly for his father's safety.

"Of course I didn't, don't be daft. I'll _personally _make sure the Lestranges don't touch him."

And with those final words, Draco Lucius Malfoy - thoughts and emotions reeling - hurriedly left the office of a very confused Harry James Potter.

* * *

Hermione tucked the young boy into his bed. She sat down next to him and brushed his dark brown curls off his forehead. He was perfect. The day James had been born, the first thing Hermione thought of was how much of Harry she could see in him. The same eyes, the same hair, even the same smile. Not one bit like Ginny, she had thought. But now he had grown into a young strapping five year-old-boy, and the Weasley traits emerged each and everyday. Mischievous and headstrong, earnest yet playful, loyal and compassionate. He was already his own boy wonder in every way his father and grandpa had been. She kissed the boy's forehead and headed down the Burrow's stairs.

Ginny didn't even hear her walking down. She was poised by the window, Firewhiskey in hand. The redheaded young woman gazed out wistfully.

"Ginny?"

Ginny turned around, a bit flustered.

"I'm sorry to have kept you so long," she gushed.

Her eyes were moving rapidly around the room and she gripped Hermione's hand tightly. Hermione winced.

"I mean, with Harry cancelling at the last minute and Bill's girls here. I didn't know what to do and I couldn't have managed– ,"

"Don't even worry about it, Gin. You know he cancelled for a meeting with Malfoy."

The last word came out with bile. The way he'd treated her in the Ministry elevator, and she'd even had enough decency to say Malfoy was a changed man. Hermione wanted to laugh ruefully. Even she knew men like Malfoy never changed.

To bring her out of thought, the fireplace went aflame with green powder. Harry emerged from the fireplace, dusting the green soot off his Auror robes. He smiled at Ginny, who momentarily met his smile, before scowling and stomping up the stairs. He looked back up the stairs worriedly, and then to Hermione.

"She's going to be mad for quite some time, isn't she?"

Hermione placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed. He was her best friend after all.

"Gin's fine. She loves you, that's all. I'll see you around."

She popped into the fireplace and smiled warmly at the boy who'd survived it all: the dreadful Dursleys, Hogwarts, Snape's horrid potions class, and a war that changed everything. A boy who'd defeated Voldemort countless times, and sent him to his grave. A boy who never truly knew a mother or a father. A boy who'd lost everything, and gained even more.

* * *

Hermione raised her head at the loud knock on her office door. She glanced at her wristwatch; it was only seven. Who'd be here this early?

"Come in."

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. _You've got to be fucking kidding me, and this early in the morning? Merlin, are you trying to kill me?_

"Granger," came the familiar drawl.

"What do you want so god damn early in the morning, Malfoy?"

"Ouch. Why do you hurt me so, Granger?" he jibed.

Hermione groaned and her quill began attacking the mountain of work in front of her. She swore the piles grew into Everests as the hours went by. Well, you couldn't be Head of Muggle Relations and Protection and not work as hard as she did.

She was proud of her title, and she'd earned it. All O's on her OWLs hadn't gone to waste. She watched him scrupulously as he casually itched at his neck. His perfectly creamy white neck.

_Oh my God, you have gone positively mad._

"You look as though you're in pain, Granger."

"I'm always in pain when you're in the room," she snapped back.

Leaning against the door frame, his eyes danced playfully.

"Do I inflame that much raw emotion in you, Granger?"

She paused, thrown off for a second, before meeting his eyes.

"Hardly."

"I've never taken you for a _liar_," he commented snidely.

"Better than a subordinate and pliant Pansy," she retorted snippily.

She saw him twitch. Pansy Parkinson, the bane of his existence was always a soft spot for Draco. As much as he loved her – and how could he not, they'd known each other for years – Pansy Parkinson was an annoying pug-faced attention-seeking bitch.

At least there was one opinion Draco shared with the rest of the world.

"I am not with Pansy anymore, for your information."

"I don't even care."

He huffed and crossed his arms like a young boy.

"My feelings towards Ms. Parkinson are not fortuitous, Granger. My ex-fiancé cheated on me."

Hermione did a sharp intake at his carefully chosen words.

"What?"

Draco was smirking at her again. He bothered her, he really did. One minute he was playing the pitied and the next an arrogant prat.

"How one could cheat and risk losing a Malfoy, even I don't know the answer to that, Granger."

She merely snorted in response.

"But to answer your question, she had been sneaking around with Flint behind drawn curtains. And it wasn't long until I returned early from work one day and caught the two lovers shagging on _my_ work desk no less. Needless to say, it was burned that very evening."

"Oh."

_What a pathetic response, Hermione. You can do better._

"I'm sorry for your loss."

His eyebrows furrowed.

"No one fucking died, Granger. It was more a blessing actually. I got rid of her easily and now my predilection for Pansy only matches that of my liking for Buckbeak."

The corners of his lips curled and Hermione matched his smile.

"You hate Buckbeak."

"Now I knew there was a reason everyone keeps referring to you as the smartest witch of our age."

Malfoy sat down in one of the two chairs facing her. She couldn't even hide her grimace; the thought of what would come next truly scared her.

"Don't look so panicked, Granger."

Her lips were pulled into a thin line.

"There must be something you want, Malfoy, so out with it."

Draco was about to continue, but then paused. He hadn't noticed how the light from her open window accented the curve of her cheekbone and the flecks of green in her otherwise brown eyes.

Her doe eyes.

He even noticed her hair was no longer that tangly bush he'd once called the nest of death, they were deep rich brown curls. She chewed her lip in apprehension. Her rosy bottom lip...

_What the fuck is wrong with me._

"Excuse that momentary digression, Granger."

"Uh–,"

"As I'd discussed with you earlier, Malfoy Industries is pursuing the mergence of muggle technologies and wizarding alike. I came here to ask you if you'd join the discussions regarding muggle relations at the next Malfoy Industries board meeting?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Purely business related, Granger. You deal and talk with the muggles and provide them with whatever muggle things they need and–,"

"Muggle things?" she repeated, aghast, "They don't need muggle things, Malfoy. All anyone needs is a bit of positive reassurance."

"Right well, you can tell them that now can't you. Until next time."

He nodded and left before she could even respond to his request… if she'd even call it one. She knew that Malfoy needed her there, after all he knew as much about muggles as most Pureblooded wizards.

She had to go.

She wanted to go.

* * *

Reviews are always welcomed.


	3. Save Me From Myself

A/N: JKR's delightful characters. I, unfortunately, own nothing.

* * *

Blaise Zabini couldn't help but stare. He was sure this was some kind of sick nightmare. There was no way in hell Hermione Granger, that stupid mudblood bint, was at this board meeting. There was just no fucking–

"Hello Zabini."

And that's when Blaise Zabini, the most suave charming wizard of Hermione's graduating class save Draco of course, was lost for words.

"Gr… Granger?"

For a second she was baffled by his deer-in-headlights stance. There was no way in Azkaban Zabini was speechless. She'd known the boy since their first unfortunate meeting on the Hogwarts Express. Like Malfoy, he'd chosen that particular moment to verbalize his opinion of preacquired revulsion to her and her _kind._ He, Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy had sent her running into the lanky freckle-spattered arms of Ron Weasley.

Zabini was a downright git, but to his defense, much politer than his fellow Slytherins. He didn't take it upon himself or go out of his way to insult her very existence like Malfoy. But she disliked him for his silent hatred just the same. And those few moments of contemplation and nostalgia, he morphed back into the Zabini she knew.

"Why are you here?"

His words bit with spite.

"For the exact same reason you are, dear Blaise."

Her saccharine sweet voice put Blaise on edge. As soon as she had confidently strode towards him, hips swaying in her professional black pumps, Blaise knew he would do everything in his power to push her to her limits, but even he knew not to mess with Hermione Granger. She was a force to be reckoned with.

An insufferable mudblood force he did not have the time, space, or effort to bother with.

"Does Draco know that you're here?"

She smiled up at the handsome Italian. Her daring eyes foretold Zabini he would not enjoy or appreciate her answer.

"He invited me."

On impulse, Zabini grabbed Hermione's petite wrists and shoved her lithe frame against the wall. She winced under the forced contact of cool skin to solid wall and a heated body. She was terrified; the tall menacing Blaise standing over her barely five foot three. His unblemished and striking face now bore a snarl and she could feel her own blood boiling.

Hermione fingered at her wand.

"You hear me now, Mudblood," Blaise spat into her curls, "You may no longer be that ugly know-it-all from Hogwarts, but you will irrevocably be nothing but dirt. Filth. Your kind remains a plague to the Wizarding world. The war may have gotten rid of a sociopath, but opinions don't change over night, and don't you ever forget that."

Hermione cringed under his weight, his words pulsating at her core. Years after the war she would have thought things, opinions had changed, and they were, but too slowly for her liking. Whatever perfect utopia she romanticized of the wizarding world following the war had skewed her logical reality.

And Hermione Granger always relied on logic.

She remembered how Thorfinn Rowle's wife attacked her, the ever naïve Granger, in Diagon Alley. The Death Eater's wife abhorred her, for so many reasons besides the underlying fact she was a muggleborn. Augusta Rowle shrieked words of repugnance for Hermione, throwing Dark Magic spells in her direction for the Avada Hermione used to kill her husband during the Battle of Hogwarts. The woman even grabbed Hermione's hair and bit her neck before some altruistic passersby came to her rescue.

The situation had been a slap in the face. An uninvited and disturbing event that caused Hermione to realize things weren't just going to change themselves so soon. It was that particular incident that sent Hermione back to her apartment, where she wallowed in self-pity and defeatism for days. She didn't allow anyone to visit, nor allow anyone to Floo. She sent back all owls unread and refused to be interviewed by a very unremitting relentless Rita Skeeter.

After days of pondering and reflection, Hermione left her job at Flourish and Botts to apply for a position at the ministry. That was her course of action. She couldn't just sit back and watch changes gradually transpire; she would be the one to make sure those changes happened.

After all, she was Hermione Fucking Granger, brains of the Golden Trio.

She trembled as Blaise slowly backed away from her, her vine wood and dragon heartstring wand tip touching his groin. Blaise knew better than to whip out his own wand and duel her; he knew better than to risk losing his most prized asset. When he stopped backing up, Hermione's wand pressed sharply against his manhood. He groaned and stumbled back.

It seemed Hermione's Gryffindor courage had returned.

"Now if you know what's best for you, Zabini, I suggest you leave your bigotry anywhere but in my presence."

Zabini sneered again but winced and grumbled back an apology when Hermione's wand traced his crotch. He regained his composure as two coworkers passed them. As soon as they left, his face contorted back into one of pure loathing.

"Whatever you want, Granger. This doesn't change anything."

Before Hermione could respond, an aggravated Blaise turned the corner and left her gawking.

_What a fantastic way to start a day._

* * *

"And then she threatened me. A mudblood threatening me! The insanity! You should have seen her, Draco, she looked crazed. And I did nothing of the sort to attack her anyway; she just pounced on me."

Draco's eyes looked vacant and bored. He didn't need another reason to think of Granger. He already saw her everywhere. Her intoxicating scent following him everywhere. He bloody hated her with his every fiber.

"If I'd known any better I'd say the mudblood bitch has a disgusting sort of crush on me."

He was used to Blaise's nonsensical ranting since the end of the war for it took every ounce of self-restraint not to punch his best friend in the jaw.

"Because she has so much reason to have a crush on you, Blaise?"

"You and your sharp tongue."

Blaise playfully punched his best friend's shoulder to which Draco gave a small smile.

"Why is she here anyway? Neither of us want the bitch working at Malfoy Industries."

"We may not want her, but we sure as hell need her. Name one thing you and I know about muggles?"

Blaise thought pensively for a moment.

"They don't have wands?"

Draco merely raised his eyebrows and Blaise chuckled.

"Alright, point made I suppose. Couldn't you have hired someone else though, anyone but her, mate."

Draco considered this for a moment. Why Granger? Well, she could get things done, and punctually too. She was dedicated. Granger loved muggles too, didn't she?

"She may be the most infuriating and hideously pathetic excuse for a mudblood I've ever encountered, but she's the best, Blaise. And Malfoys always get the best."

* * *

Hermione sat on the leather couch outside Draco's office. He was fifteen minutes late, and though she was no pedant, punctuality in a work place was key. She uncrossed and crossed her legs again, rubbing her wrists from Blaise's confrontation minutes earlier.

"When did you say I could go in?"

Hermione was getting impatient and the beautiful, but unqualified, leggy blonde that just so happened to be Malfoy's secretary was not helping one bit. The woman – no, girl – at the desk snapped her gum in Hermione's direction.

"He said he'd be done in a bit."

"Could you buzz him again for me?"

The blonde just glared as if to say you are a waste of space and buzzed Malfoy again. She spoke in hushed tones through the telephone at her desk. The telephone was one of many technological advances Malfoy Industries proudly utilized. There were televisions all over the lobby and small exhibitions of many muggle technologies on display.

She was in awe at how much Malfoy strived for excellence in his mutli-billion galleon company. There were moving pictures on each and every wall showing Malfoy shaking hands with muggle contacts from numerous countries, and the strangest part was, it looked so very natural. He didn't look the least bit distressed while casually resting his hand on a muggle shoulder let alone hugging the CEO of a muggle cell phone company.

It was irking to say that Malfoy may have even enjoyed the presence of these muggles. No, there was no way in hell.

"You can go in now."

Hermione rubbed her temples. Malfoy was the most vexing creature she'd ever met. Opening the door to his office, she was sure all her recent migraines were attributed to him.

"Granger, so kind of you to join me!"

His sarcastic enthusiasm was not helping.

"Right. When's the board meeting, then?"

"Postponed."

Hermione's eyes widened, and he inhaled the sight, enjoying her confusion and clear frustration.

"Well clearly Malfoy, I have no reason to be here."

Draco stood up quickly as she turned to leave.

"Granger, I was going to take you on a tour. Perhaps introduce you to some investors in my company?"

She grimaced but turned back around and forced a smile.

"I'm not interested in meeting your investors, Malfoy."

He leered at her, and moved in. She found him standing in front of her. She pulled at the collar of her suit; she was suffocating again. Since when did she have so many medical problems? Perhaps a trip to Mungo's would serve her well after all.

"But you'll be spending so much time with them, Granger."

His hot breath was near her ear. Her stomach constricted, her breathing ragged. She stepped away from him, her heart beating too rapidly for her liking. His lips curled into a smirk and he pressed her figure against the wall. She turned her head away from him; she didn't want Malfoy to see the flush that crept up her neck. His sinewy body molded against her, but instead of wincing, a moan of pleasure escaped her parted lips.

"Do you like that, mudblood?"

She couldn't help the gasp when he pinched her bum.

"Do you enjoy being touched by purebloods?"

His words seeped with distate and Hermione knew she should pull out her wand and hex him right there. Instead, she just let herself go limp and tried to elude the warmth growing between her thighs.

"You're so beautiful, Hermione."

Draco was inebriated by her sheer proximity to him. She was so fucking there; and he hated her for making him this way. He slipped his hand under her shirt and felt her smooth skin. He skimmed his fingers across her sides and blew into her ear. He felt her shudder. He didn't even need to shag her to feel this way, the fact she was so close to him brought a feeling of euphoria.

"Do you like it when Blaise and I touch you like this?"

Again, Hermione knew she shouldn't respond in anyway but her body seemed to have different ideas. A whimper was all Draco heard; she could almost feel the haughty smile growing.

"Well you know what, Granger."

She caught her breath in erotic anticipation.

"I fucking hate you. I hate everything about you. You disgust me."

He pushed her to the side and made his way to the door. He opened it and smirked at her, clearly relishing his moments with the blushing and aroused Hermione. She scowled darkly and spoke up.

"Well good thing I hate you too Draco. You make me wonder why the Ministry even puts up with your shit. The fact the Malfoys still exist is a blot on the Wizarding world. A mar that won't erase no matter how hard you try to accost muggles and pathetic mudbloods like me. You'll never change your ways, Malfoy. And for that alone, I hate you."

His grey eyes darkened but she Apparated from his office before he could even retort. He slammed the door shut and ran his fingers through his hair. He always fucked things up; he was always a capricious bastard.

_No, no matter. I don't need her. Blaise was right; she's just another sordid mudblood._

Draco, too engrossed in his animosity, didn't even notice that he'd winced at his own spiteful words.

* * *

Hermione fell prostate into her bed, not even bothering to take off her business suit. She was irritated, angry, confused, and hurt. She turned over, an internal war raging inside of her. Hermione made a mental note to give the suit pants to the Salvos. There was no way she ever wanted to see the suit that Draco had, well excited her in, anywhere near her.

She pulled the pant legs off, one at a time, and then unbuttoned the suit jacket slowly. She stood before her full length mirror when it dropped. As she grazed her sides with her fingertips from top to bottom, she imagined Draco. She closed her eyes and remembered his lean sinewy muscles, his body pressed against hers.

She touched her chest, hoping the empty feeling that had overcome her would end. She begged her body; please. But they were just malevolent attempts, futile attempts. She closed her eyes again and remembered his whispers.

"You're so beautiful, Hermione."

She shivered when he'd said her name for it sounded so pure. She imagined it was as foreign to her tongue as it was to her ear. He had never said her name like that before, he had never said her name in all her years of knowing him.

Most of his character was undeterred from his Slytherin Prince days. He was still intolerable and arrogant, purposely pressing her buttons because he enjoyed her angered reactions. But she knew the war had changed him. She saw it in the way he presented himself, his gait. He wasn't the coward she remembered. Yes, she still hated him. Yes, he confused her.

Yes, no; she didn't know anything anymore.

Hermione opened her eyes and leered at the laughable figure emulating before her. She wanted to crawl into bed and hug herself. Draco riled her up with indignation. She wish it would just stop, he would just stop. She gave into her body's pleas and curled the covers around her shaking body. Tears welled up and droplets fell onto the beige quilt, her cries muffled by the white pillows. Eventually her bleary tired eyes found a peaceful quiet slumber.

* * *

"Hermione Jean Granger?"

Hermione's eyes fluttered open to greet the dauntingly handsome man before her.

"Yes?"

The tall man produced his hand and shook mine firmly. A simper formed on his thin lips.

"I'm not sure if you remember me. You probably wouldn't anyway."

She arched an eyebrow.

"No, I'm sorry I don't."

"Theodore Nott."

Her eyes lit up with recognition.

"Of course! You were in my Arithmancy class. I was always trying to beat you and Draco out of taking first place in class."

Her voice strained as she said Draco's name offhandedly. Their surroundings became awkward and pregnantly silent. Unsure of what to do, Hermione invited Theo to sit down.

"Draco said you sent back his owls," he drawled as he closed the door behind her.

Hermione guffawed.

"I wonder what made him think that," she quipped.

He stroked his chin.

"I suppose your right, Ms. Granger."

"Hermione, please."

Theo sat and nodded as she began rifling through her cabinets looking for some files. She procured her manila file and placed it on the desk.

"Well, Gr… Hermione. Draco asked me to come and convince you to return to Malfoy Industries and remain his muggle relations manager."

The rest of his words were unintelligible. She nodded while flipping through the file. He looked at her with a pained smile.

"I'm so sorry, Nott. You were saying?"

He cleared his throat and looked at her squarely.

"You know as well as I do that if Draco did something to upset you, there's no way he'd apologize. He thinks apologizing or anything that shows emotion beneath him."

She laughed hollowly.

"What are you, his wizards relations director or something?"

He paused for a second and frowned.

"Yes, Ms. Granger, I am."

"Well, Theo. You can tell Malfoy that his request was heard and rejected."

He blushed at Hermione's use of his first name.

"No problem Hermione. Draco said you'd say something like that. He told me to ask – well, beg – you to rejoin."

Somewhere inside of Hermione wanted to scream. She was confused, why did she feel as though she should accept. To get close to Malfoy and help him change? No, that couldn't be it. She was probably just being her magnanimous self.

"The answer is final."

She stood up from her seat and shook hands with Theo again before he took leave. He'd tried unsuccessfully to change her mind. She repeated to an exasperated Nott that she would never work for Draco again. He finally conceded and left sourly. Parvati entered soon after Theo's departure.

"Do my eyes deceive me, or was that Theodore Nott?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, her quill viciously scratching against the scroll in front of her.

"The very same."

"My word," Parvati replied breathily, "He is one juicy piece of Slytherin meat."

Hermione paused from her work, and looked up at her coworker, amused.

"I thought you were a vegetarian?"

Parvati glared.

"Why was Nott here, anyway?"

"Here as Malfoy's henchman," Hermione answered with a scowl.

"Oh, I doubt that. Theo's always been a nice guy, perhaps a bit quiet, but always kind."

"Well he can't be all that wonderful if he works for Malfoy."

The Patel sister leaned against the doorframe.

"Sometimes I think you're too hard on Malfoy's associates."

Hermione glowered at Parvati who just shrugged.

"You forget we went to school with the madman. He tried to kill Dumbledore!"

"But didn't! You forget the key word, Hermione. You know how much he's lost, how much he's changed. He doesn't have either of his parents–,"

"I refuse to sympathize, Parvati. Both Malfoy's parents are very much alive."

"Hermione!" Parvati accused, "His mother is in a coma at Mungo's and his father is in Azkaban. I hardly call that living."

The brunette witch shrugged in response.

"How can you be so cold? You were the one who always defended him!"

"Well," Hermione quarreled, "Perhaps he hasn't changed at all. Perhaps he's the same self-absorbed git we knew at Hogwarts."

Parvati looked as though she was about to explode.

"I'm going to leave now Hermione, before we both say things we don't mean."

"Perhaps you should," Hermione added quietly.

Parvati sighed. She tried to catch Hermione's wandering eyes but gave up and left.

Hermione inhaled deeply.

_What are you doing to me Malfoy?_

* * *

Thanks for the reviews, you guys kept me writing! But this story has had over 400 hits already - and only 4 reviews! For those of you who read and didn't review, please comment on what you think and there will surely be more to come. Severe critique is most welcome!


	4. A Cognitive Dissonance

A/N: More than 550 hits! Thank you so much, but remember I don't own these characters – all Jo's.

* * *

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. So what, she'd demurred his request; that's what he had expected, hadn't he? He rolled his eyes to the fading jade green ceiling of the Malfoy family library, thinking of her. She was his drug, an addiction. The more he envisaged Hermione, the more he hated her. She was everything he despised in a person if not more, so why, why did she plague his thoughts?

He threw his work documents off the new rich oak wood desk and set them aflame. Levitating the documents, he watched the edges of the paper burn, burn like his passion for her. This penchant for Granger would end; it had to! Draco's grip around his wand handle tightened as he angered, and the flame shone a brighter and vivid blood red before extinguishing. The ashes danced around the room.

He tried to think of a reason why her beautiful face danced, like those ashes, in his mind. She was a haunting requiem; a dirge that kept playing like a broken record. He berated himself for thinking of her again and slammed his clenched fist onto the table.

"Fucking Granger."

She troubled him as much as his crazed father did. Yes, Lucius Malfoy had gone positively mad. As much as Draco hated his father – and Malfoy hated him more than anything – he couldn't help but feel sorry for the senile man rotting away in Azkaban.

The first time Draco saw his father, all he saw was the ghost of a man. Lucius Abraxas Malfoy's once shiny grey white hair discolored into a greasy tangle, his eyes were sunk in and void of any emotion. The older Malfoy sat with his knees drawn in, sputtering about Voldermort's return to power and how he'd kill any mudblood in his sight. Whatever robes Draco had sent to Azkaban were discarded in torn shards around the cell.

Clearly, Lucius felt no need to be, well, clothed. Draco had closed his eyes, willing the shame for his father to subside. He was crazy, Lucius always had been, and Draco knew this. Once he opened his eyes, Lucius was before him. The man had risen and walked to the cell bars, cackling at the boy he knew his son.

_"Finally come to see your old man, have you?"_

_Draco couldn't bring himself to respond to his father's hawk-like gaze._

_"You were always a fool. A good-for-nothing coward."_

_Lucius' malicious words caused Draco to cast his eyes to the ground._

_"A blemish on the Malfoy name. If it weren't for deserters like you switching to the Light side, we'd be ruling the world now. Do you hear me, boy? Ruling the Wizarding world."_

_The old Malfoy snickered and traced Draco's face through the cell bars._

_"You're older. Older and no more wiser than the day you turned on your own kind."_

_Lucius spat on the face of his son and grinned, uncovering a toothless smile. Suddenly his eyes averted from his wretched son. Lucius looked at Malfoy, but as though he wasn't there. Lucius seemed to be listening and seeing things nonexistent. He then bowed deeply._

_"Yes, my lord."_

_And Lucius slunk back into the shadows of his cell._

Years later, Draco had learnt of his father recuperating. The convalescing prat was now in the lowest security cells and was due to be released. Draco didn't have the heart to tell his father of Narcissa's coma; he knew the man would return to who he was the first time Draco met him in Azkaban – mad, prejudiced, and positively lethal.

Draco leaned back in his chair, breathing deeply. His thoughts moved from Lucius and Narcissa back to Granger. All he could imagine was pressing his lips to her vile porcelain smooth mudblood skin, and whispering lowly in her virgin ears. He fantasized of their ardent kisses, fervent kisses. She was probably a whore in the bed, he thought with a naughty smirk. After all, Draco Malfoy was a connoisseur of all things sexual and coitus alike. He'd shagged and courted enough women to know these sorts of things.

Draco cracked his fingers and went back to rubbing his chin. Now he'd have to plead and implore Granger to come work for him. She'd enjoy that, wouldn't she? Having a Malfoy beg. He growled and tore the papers in front of him to shreds. That fucking mudblood was driving him mad; if he kept this up, he'd be like his father in no time. Draco placated himself. All he had to do was ask politely and she'd surely come. He scoffed at that. A Malfoy asking – politely even – was a sight to be seen. He'd never asked for anything, he didn't need to ask for anything. Draco Malfoy had everything.

Everything except Hermione Granger it turned out.

* * *

The night air was so bitterly crisp that Ron Weasley shut the door as soon as he stepped into her quaint warm apartment. Hermione, wearing a maroon apron wrapped tightly around her waist, greeted Ron with a quick hug.

"Thanks for inviting me over 'Mione."

He followed her retreating form into the kitchen.

"Well, I haven't seen you in a while," she confessed, flicking the spatula in her hand.

She mixed the pot of steaming spaghetti and smiled at her best friend,

"And I know how much you love my bologna."

Ron grinned. Like Malfoy and Hermione, the war had changed Ron. He lost a brother and friends, and tried to make up for the void by courting Hermione. They to create some spark, but even they knew whatever could have been, would never be. They even went as far as to kiss, but without the fireworks, both agreed on affable terms to remain friends.

Externally, Ron had changed from an extremely skinny awkward sidekick to a tall, lean, and confident man. It had taken months for Ron to start recovering from the death of his friends and family, and she could see Ron was still healing these many years later.

Ron worked alongside Harry as an Auror; the two still made an abominable force. The one thing that hadn't changed about Ron was his stomach. He still loved food, and never rejected an invitation to dine at Hermione's.

"What's for desert?" Ron asked, his finger skimming the edges of the plate before him.

"Pumpkin pie," Hermione replied with a beam.

They continued their casual banter as Hermione drained the water and scooped the spaghetti onto his plate.

"Smells like ambrosia, Hermione."

She giggled unlike her usual self.

"You only say that because of your furlough from my cooking. You haven't come over in weeks!"

"I've been busy, being an Auror and all. You know Hermione, you're starting to sound an awful lot like Ginny."

She purposely splattered meat sauce on his robes. She smiled sweetly at the redhead.

"Oops."

Ron simply squeezed her hand and chuckled.

"Hermione you will forever remain stubborn. Never change."

And with those enigmatic words, Ron began to devour the meal before him. Hermione laughed too, and decided against comparing his eating to the five-year-old Potter in her very kitchen days ago.

"I heard you're working with Malfoy."

"I'm not, Ron."

"Yes you are," Ron pressed, "Hannah Abbot told Seamus at lunch who told Dean in the elevator to my Auror floor who told me when he passed my office."

"Glad to know the Ministry has such intricate webs of communication."

"You know what I mean 'Mione."

"For you're information, Ronald, I quit."

Ron's face twisted.

"Why?"

"Because he's a git."

"We all know that, but I also know you, and you don't deal with Malfoy's nonsense. You never have, never will."

She beamed at him. Ron always had such a positive opinion of her.

"But I don't understand why you even accepted the job in the first place."

Ron's eyes suddenly widened, and he lowered his voice as though there were other people in the room.

"He didn't attack you, did he?"

And then had to ruin her appreciation by saying things like that.

"No, Ron, he most certainly didn't attack me."

_More like aroused me to the next millennium._

"Good, but then why'd you quit?"

"Must I explain everything to you, Ron," she complained, "He's a git. End of story."

"Sounds like an impractical explanation to me."

"You wouldn't know impractical if it came and hexed you to Bellatrix's grave."

"Shut up, 'Mione."

Silence ebbed in Hermione's kitchen.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

Ron dropped his fork and squeezed her hand again. She smiled into his swimming blue eyes and he folded her fingers again before releasing her hand.

"I'm starting to think you have some sort of alternative reason for not going."

She scowled at him.

"And how could you even think such a thing?" she fumed.

"For one, you're answering sardonically and I'm your best friend. I know you better than Ginny."

She sighed.

_Ron you're going to hate me, but it's more likely you're going to go and assassinate Draco. But because you're my best friend–_

The doorbell rang.

"That's strange, I didn't invite anyone else over."

Ron raised an eyebrow and pulled his wand onto the table. He winked when he saw her eyes widen.

"Just in case."

"Put that away Ron Bilius Weasley, this instance."

He seethed.

"No need to sound like Mom, Dad, and Ginny in one mouthful, Hermione."

She wiggled her eyebrows at his chuckles and headed over to the door. She took down the wards and uncertainly opened the apartment door.

"What the fuck?"

* * *

"Nice to see you too, Granger."

She glowered at him.

"How do you know my address? Why are you here? I thought I already told you I quit."

"No need to bombard me with questions, Granger. I didn't know you were that interested in my life. How very piquant."

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy."

Ron called out to her from the dining room.

"Guests, Granger, or a date?"

"None of your business," she snapped, "You were telling me why exactly you're at my doorstep."

"I just went and asked your pretty friend Patel. She seemed too interested as to why I wanted to visit you, but don't worry, I put her in place."

"You did what?"

Malfoy smirked at Hermione's fright.

"I just gave her my best supercilious glare."

"You mean your normal stare?"

"Shut it, Granger. Anyway, she handed over your address and here I am. I'm here because you won't return to your position at Malfoy Industries - I want to know why."

"Why?" she asked lecherously, visibly astonished, "You should know better than I do."

"Besides the fact I'm much too superior for you to be in my presence, I don't see one."

"I don't like your superlative sense of humor, Malfoy. It doesn't make me want to come back to your company."

"But see, Granger, you enjoy doing things for purebloods."

He smirked and she blushed in spite of herself before responding tersely.

"Don't be so purposely obtuse! You don't have the right to come to my apartment, have the tenacity to insult me again, and ask me to work for you. I don't work like that. You and me, it's not going to happen," she expounded resolutely.

She looked pleased at his silence. Her face fell at his reply.

"Are you breaking up with me, Granger?" Draco joshed.

"For Merlin's sake, get the fuck away from me."

In his rage, Draco thought to lean in to grab Hermione's waist and heave the light woman against the door. His quick contemplation was interrupted by the arrival of a redhead.

A very pissed off redhead.

"So nice of you to join us, Weasel."

"Ferret."

Draco bowed with a flourish of his hand. He sneered at Ron.

"Why don't you go fetch me some water, blood traitor?" Malfoy instructed rudely.

"Go fuck yourself, Malfoy."

Ron grabbed Hermione's wrist and wrenched her away from the door. Malfoy heard a barely audible,

"You were right about him still being a sore cretin."

"What was that, Weasel King? If I knew any better, I'd say–"

"Leave now, Malfoy," Ron interjected, his face red, "If you know what's best for you."

Malfoy smirked.

"Why don't you ask your girlfriend Hermione here why I'm even at her residence."

Ron looked at Hermione, whose eyes traced her hardwood floor.

"What's he talking about 'Mione?"

His voice was so innocent. Hermione hated to hurt him, she really did.

"Yes, what's he talking about 'Mione."

That did it for Ron.

All Hermione heard before she could pull out her own wand was the crunch of Ron's fist colliding into Malfoy's seraphic nose. The rest was a confused debacle. Hermione screamed for them to stop this foolishness as she heard thuds and moans of pain from both men.

She jumped between them in an attempt to pull Malfoy away from Ron. It wasn't until her best friend accidently struck her that the fight ended. She stumbled back, her eyes bleary from the excruciating pain.

"Merlin," Ron gasped, stumbling towards her, "I am so sorry 'Mione. Let me help you–"

She put up her hand against his chest and Ron stopped. She clutched her other arm against her stomach, eyes watering.

"Please, Ronald," she coughed and closed her eyes, "Just go."

"And leave you with this foul Voldemort reincarnate? I'd rather not."

"What did you just call me?" Draco thundered.

"Shut up, Malfoy. And please, please just go, Ron."

He tried again to reach out to her. Hermione just cringed and shuffled away from him.

"I don't want you to touch me right now."

Ron hung his head. She watched sadly as he collected his jacket from the kitchen and called an apology and goodbye before Apparating from her apartment. Draco's presence had not gone forgotten.

"Granger."

"What the fuck do you want, Malfoy? You started all of this."

He couldn't help but stare at her, chagrinned. He hated her - everything about her - but why did his knees buckle at her scent, and why was he constantly searching for excuses to talk to her. Her doe brown eyes flicked up to his own, and held his grey.

He strode languidly towards her; it was as if Ron's blows hadn't affected him in the slightest. Still locked on her eyes, Malfoy pulled Hermione against his own and held her. She didn't have the energy to fight him, and melted against his willing body. They stood like that silently for some moments with Malfoy smoothing her hair and whispering into her ear.

And all she could hear was the concurrent beating of their hearts.

He bent down and lifted her legs into an embrace to carry her to the bedroom. Hermione was much lighter than he'd previously anticipated.

"Wow, Granger. Eat much?"

She stayed silence. He decided this probably wasn't the best time to make jokes about her weight. He first passed the kitchen and dining area, which Draco decided he would clean after helping Granger – what with all that steaming food and those half-eaten meals.

He turned the corner and passed bathroom, smirking when he entered the last room in the hallway. Her bedroom was just as he'd imagined: clean, beige, and homely – just like predictable plain Jane Granger. He laid her gingerly on the bed. Draco froze when her nails dug into his back from sheer pain.

"Sorry again, Granger. Be a strong girl and deal with it."

He tried again, and successfully laid the brunette on her bed. He pulled out his wand from his robe pocket and closed his eyes, chanting slowly and hauntingly. A faint lavender glow emerged from his wand and lingered on Hermione's chest before fading. The aching receded minutes after.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

"No problem, Granger. I was a healer for the Dark side during the war anyway, so just putting some prior knowledge to use."

She smiled and closed her eyes.

"You'll come work for me again, right?"

She cracked an eye open and smirked at him. He was taken aback for a second. Granger smirking? No, it couldn't be. He checked again, and there she was, smirking.

"Obviously you had no ulterior motives for healing me, did you?"

"Again, Granger, you forget I'm a Slytherin."

"I doubt you'll ever let me – let alone anyone – forget that you're a Slytherin."

"I suppose you're right."

She leaned back her head and rested once more. She would forgive Ron; after all it was really Malfoy's stupidity that had caused the whole fiasco in the first place.

After ten minutes, Draco realized that she wasn't going to wake up and speak to him any time soon. Both his hands pulled at his white blond hair. Why did he have to save her? Was he her knight in shining fucking armor?

No, he most certainly was not.

He glanced back at her. She looked ethereal, sleeping peacefully; it was almost as if she wasn't insufferable mudblood Granger. But facts don't change, he thought to himself. Draco got up, but paused before exiting her bedroom door.

_I don't care for the fucking mudblood, not in the slightest._

He turned back and saw that she was awake, smiling at him coyly.

"I'll see you Monday, Malfoy."

* * *

A/N: I love some good ol' fashioned Malfoy Weasley action. Reviews would be wonderful! Thanks for all the reads. Come back soon everyone, I'll try posting new chapters regularly.


	5. Here's a Sickle, Call Someone Who Cares

Almost 800 hits! Come on you guys - please review and tell your friends! It doesn't feel good when so many people read your story and don't give any feedback.

For those who don't understand the title, it's a little wizarding pun on Travis Tritt's **"Here's a Quarter (Call Someone who Cares)". **On a random (but interesting) note, £1 is the equivalent of about 7 sickles.

BlooDsucKkerR69: I know Draco is a douche – it's in his job description as Draco Malfoy. Like I said, this novel length will be a bit angsty though under an umbrella theme of love and forgiveness. It's a progressive story so there's a lot more to come. Look forward to more about Zabini and Nott (two characters I love that just don't get enough attention in the books) and Malfoy and Granger's relationship. Don't give up on me just yet you guys! And thanks for the review!

**Disclaimer: JKR's. I own nothing.**

* * *

"St. Scarhead."

"Ferret."

Malfoy smirked, enjoying Harry's clear discomfort.

"Any developments on Granger's little predicament?"

"You were right by the way."

"Aren't I always?" Malfoy coolly interjected.

"We've determined contact between Rodolphus and Rabastan with some former Death Eaters. They must owe the Lestranges a favor, or remain loyal to Voldemort and his preachings. Not sure if they plan to capture Hermione, but you've been right so far, and I have a hunch you're right."

"They must have internally planned the whole kidnapping from within Azkaban walls."

"You know too much for your own good, Malfoy. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're helping your uncles."

Malfoy sneered.

"I'm protecting the darned mudblood aren't I? That should be good enough for you."

He scowled and wrung his wrists. He hated Potter seeing him so vulnerable all the bloody time.

"Why would I want to protect Granger _and_ keep my father in Azkaban? Yes, it would complete my already perfect fairytale life, wouldn't it Potter?"

Harry just glared.

"We don't need your sarcasm, Malfoy."

"And I don't need your altruism."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

Malfoy was silent, staring off behind Harry's head and focused on the moving photographs behind him. He saw Potter and the She Weasel holding each other's waists, throwing back their heads and laughing as though they had witnessed something rather hilarious. She was wearing an all white ball length dress and Malfoy assumed it was their wedding day.

As much as Malfoy hated to admit, the She Weasel looked good - and so did Potter, he supposed. He silently cursed himself and wondered what it would be like to be so blissfully in love, like Potter and the woman Weasley.

He moved on to the next picture, and caught his breath. It was one of Hermione standing between Potter and Weasley. From the way the sunrays lazily caught Hermione's soft brown hair, they seemed to be in front of the Burrow on a late-summer afternoon. She donned a yellow sundress that accented her thin waist and year round tan.

She wore a natural smile that warmed Malfoy to his disgust. He grimaced as soon as he noticed the way she was smiling up at Weasley who, to Malfoy's delight, hadn't noticed. Weasley and Potter both wore muggle clothing, jeans and Quidditch t-shirts, and these ugly flimsy shoes he'd never seen before. Considering the one strap of protection the shoes offered their toes, his suspicions were confirmed that Weasley and Potter were much too poor.

"How's Lucius?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, grey eyes brooding.

"Why would I know?" Malfoy tiffed, "Or care for that matter."

"You're his son, and under the terms of Lucius' release–"

"Save the lecture for your kids using premature magic, Scarhead. From what I've heard he's fine, and that's all there is to it."

Harry sighed and eyed Malfoy precariously.

The terms of the elder Malfoy's release had been Draco's required correspondence between himself and an Auror of the Wizengamot's choice. Ironically, the Auror the Wizarding Council chose was the only man Draco hated more than his father: Potter. Their letters were painfully polite and distant; a little too cryptic for Harry's peace of mind. He even suspected Malfoy of harboring war criminals in his wine cellar at one point. Harry announced that he was to search the Malfoy Manor several evenings ago at the Burrow.

_"Harry, you're much too busy," Hermione suggested lightheartedly, lounging next to him on the Weasley's tumbledown plaid couch. "Let me do it."_

_"And you tell me I have too much free time, 'Mione?" Ron accused from the kitchen._

_"Shove a homemade house elf sock in it, Ronald," Hermione reprimanded scathingly._

_She was pissed off at Ron's insolence at dinner a week ago when her date, Seamus Finnegan, was treated to comments about Hermione's sexual prowess._

_"I don't have much work at the moment - plus I think it would be fun; much like going back in time and rifling through Malfoy's sixth year belongings. That's too much entertainment that I just won't let you experience without me."_

_"Malfoy excites you! Are you fucking serious?"_

_"Shut up, Ron," Hermione yelled, irritated with her best friend's rash remarks, "Don't talk with your mouthful like a two-year-old."_

_Harry chuckled, his eyes shining from the verbal diatribe going on in his home. It was just like Hogwarts: Hermione and Ron quarrelling while he either hid or meakly attempted peace-keeping. He took his best friend's hand and squeezed._

_"Thanks Hermione."_

_"No problem," she replied, smiling at Harry. Her face suddenly became serious._

_"You don't really think he would hide Fenrir Greyback in his home, do you?"_

_"Hermione," he questioned, "From what I recall, Malfoy is terribly frightened of werewolves. And do you honestly think anyone in their right mind would house Greyback in their home? I highly doubt it."_

_Hermione's face turned sour._

_"I wouldn't put it past Malfoy."_

"So how's the pregnant wife, Potter?"

Malfoy's question brought Harry back from his reminisce.

"Cantankerous with the little sleep she's getting."

_Why on earth were the She Weasel and Potter contaminating the world with the __**third**__ of their offspring? Three spawns of the worst possible combination of two things I loathe immensely: Weasley and Potter._

Malfoy grunted.

"Potter, I was thinking you could talk to Arthur about mitigating Granger's workload."

"So it's Arthur know, is it?"

"Don't give me that, Scarhead," Malfoy voiced, his signature smirk still donning his features, "We've worked _quite_ closely over the years."

"To answer your question, Ferret, I'm not going to ask Mr. Weasley anything regarding Hermione's work."

"And why not?"

"Because the last thing anyone wants– unless they are masochistic and would revel in experiencing an excruciatingly painful death – is to interfere with Hermione's job."

"But don't you see, Potter, I'm doing it all for her own good."

Malfoy's pressed voice reminded of his own daughter, Rose, begging for some new dolls from WWW.

"How am I supposed to keep a watchful eye on her while she's traipsing around the Ministry?"

"She's just doing her job, Malfoy. So I'd suggest, if you want to save your own head, to butt out if it."

"Just get me a meeting with Mr. Weasley, Scarhead."

And before Harry could say anything else, Malfoy had Apparated from his office. He hated when Ferret got the last word, but some things from his Hogwarts days just never change.

* * *

Hermione breathed in and out.

_One... Two... Three..._

She even sat on her hands to stop herself from shoving the Malfoy Industries Expense Report file down his secretary's throat. Malfoy's personal escritoire – what was her name again? Gina? – religiously continued her obnoxious gum smacking and vindictive glares at Hermione. The brown haired witch swore she heard Gina murmur 'mudblood' more than once through all that gum chewing.

Malfoy opened his office door and strolled out casually, gesturing for Hermione to follow him.

"How long have you been in there?"

"Two hours," Malfoy answered, "Give or take."

"Important meeting?" Granger asked, curious as to why she was asked to wait outside his office for an hour.

"Not really. I just thought it would bother you."

Hermione scowled darkly and Malfoy grinned. He enjoyed getting to her.

"Gina, would you mind deferring all my Floos and sorting any owls that come in? Thanks."

The blonde girl blushed and Malfoy smirked back.

_He sure knew his charm and effect on women, didn't he?_

"Did you say something, Granger?"

"No," she claimed a little too quickly, "Just commenting on the uh- lovely leather furniture is all."

"Shame," he continued. Hermione followed his strides out of the office area. "You've got your own office now, so no more fine Italian leather seating for you. Just a plastic mesh office chair."

"What! That's going to kill me," Hermione jested.

He merely narrowed his eyes and began the tour. As he talked avidly about his workplace and coworkers, Hermione again recognized Malfoy's natural business savvy and entrepreneurship. She scowled, realizing that he'd succeeded financially much more than Hermione ever would. She took solace in the fact he was a git and nodded absentmindedly at something he'd just said.

"That's Blaise's office. You should pop in some time and get reacquainted."

She saw his sneer and huffed.

"To your right is Nott's office and yours is around the corner. I think you can find that on your own, mudblood."

"That was _so_ necessary, Ferret."

_Is Malfoy bipolar or something? One minute he's all business and next minute he's back to a first class sod. I knew there was something wrong with the git…_

"Can't let you think I've gone soft now, can I?"

Hermione ignored him, taking in the comfortable and modern surroundings of her new workspace. She rather liked the black and white dynamic.

"Mudblood, don't touch too much and give Nott wizard herpes. He's one of my best."

"Fuck off, Malfoy."

Malfoy grinned and pulled Hermione into him. He heard her pleasurable sigh but her very capable mind apparently had other ideas. Hermione fought off Malfoy by elbowing him between his Seeker-muscled thighs. He staggered back, coughing and nursing his manhood.

"Don't you fucking touch me, you freak."

And with that, Hermione stalked away to find her office. Malfoy's dangerous baritone called after her,

"Meeting in the conference room in an hour, mudblood!"

After getting a feel for her new office and ruefully associating Draco's capricious behavior as borderline personality disorder, Hermione wandered over to Nott's office. When she knocked and walked inside, he faced away from her and talked animatedly to a client on the phone. When he saw Hermione, he smiled, quickly finishing the call.

"Welcome, Granger. Liking the office?"

"It's great actually. Who knew Malfoy had such impeccable taste."

"You forget that he's a Malfoy, Granger."

They both smirked at this, each remembering a personal experience where Malfoy had declared that notion himself.

"He said we'd be working together quite closely."

Nott just nodded and appeared indifferent to his situation with Hermione.

"At least it's you and not Zabini," she continued.

"Actually, Granger," Nott interrupted, "Malfoy wanted to put you through the torture of working with Blaise. I expressly forbid him from partnering you and Zabini; after all, it wouldn't be conducive to success. All we'd end up with is a dead Zabini, a crazy witch, and scared muggle clients."

Hermione laughed at this and Nott decided he liked her tinkling mirth.

"Take a seat, Granger."

They continued chatting and realized they had more in common than each had initially thought. They talked about work and family, Hogwarts, their favorite books, and how much of a git Malfoy was. Nott decided he liked the Granger girl, and even found her to be breathtaking, much unlike Malfoy's uncouth and offensive description of her at the last board meeting. Nott had laughed when one of the muggle board members raised his hand and asked if she was a troll.

"Oh, Nott! Meeting in five."

He looked at his clock and got up from his seat.

"Come along, Granger. We'll get you to this meeting on time. This office is labyrinth sometimes, I swear."

And Hermione dutifully followed the sly Slytherin to her first and rather eventful board meeting.

* * *

Nott chivalrously opened the conference door for Hermione and the two walked in – clearly the last ones to arrive. She blushed and muttered a quick apology before taking a seat next to a good-looking Asian man. He greeted her with a wink and turned back to Malfoy before she could even register his welcome.

_Too many flirts in the office place, Hermione. Watch out._

"Now that the fashionably late Nott has graced us with his presence, we can begin. I would like to thank you all for making it to our first board meeting on the cellular wizarding prototype initiative. We all know it's been a long time coming, but I would like to especially thank Matthew Blooming for the kick start."

Hermione took this as her cue to clap. When no one joined her, she just shrunk a little bit lower in her seat. The man who was probably Matthew blushed and smiled at Hermione, earning her a glare from Malfoy. He continued his speech.

"Our Research and Development department has already begun the process of attaching wizard spell recognition to cellular devices and made its first successful prototype only days ago!"

Now to this everyone burst into thunderous applause. Hermione – the only one not clapping – shrunk even lower in her chair. Did she just hear what she thought she heard? Did Malfoy really just mutter 'stupid mudblood' under his breath?

_Just bloody perfect. Oh, I'm going to kill him._

"Of course the model isn't flawless, but the department is working ardently on achieving perfection by the end of next quarter."

He continued his speech, indicating the advertisement process was already underway and the numerous investors interested in contributing to the product's success. His poised and cool spiel caused Hermione to notice the way his eyes shone when he was excited and confident.

She observed that he ran his fingers through his white blond hair when he was unsure how to continue. She noticed his smile and dancing grey eyes, how sharp and handsome he looked in his muggle business attire. She admired his attentiveness to the muggle board members' questions, and how he attacked problems and inquiries at their core.

_How did he make it look so very easy, to be appear so very perfect?_

Malfoy caught her eyes and smirked as if he knew the very question she'd just asked herself.

"And this, everyone, is the one and only Hermione Jean Granger."

She rose from her seat and smiled graciously at the group of men around her.

_Yes, all men. Malfoy was so bloody sexist._

"I'm Jackie Weng," the Asian man next to her shook her hand and flashed a thousand watt smile, "Head of Marketing and Advertisement. Youngest board member at Malfoy Industries."

She couldn't help but blush at his suave voice.

"Adrian Pucey; we went to school together."

Hermione suppressed a scowl. She disliked Adrian as much as she disliked Snape's potions class – and that was saying a lot.

"Chief Sales Officer. I hope to get to know you much better, Ms. Granger."

She frowned at that; it sounded too much like dangling meat in front of a hungry Hungarian Horntail.

"I'm Malachi Castillo, Head of Performance and Procedure. I'm a squib myself."

She liked his genuine interest and lazy voice. Maybe he wasn't a player–

"I know what you're thinking Granger, but no, Castillo is a bigger sleaze than Pucey and I combined."

"Shut it, Zabini."

The three men just grinned at Castillo's caveat and Zabini continued.

"You know me, Granger. Head of Promotions, that's all. To my right is Demetri Abbott, Hannah's brother. He doesn't talk much but he's Head of Finance."

_Git._

"Matthew Blooming; I'm a muggle. Malfoy's newest Chief Business Development Officer and the one who got Mr. Malfoy involved in muggle technologies."

"Wait, Malfoy Sr.?"

"His name is Mr. Lucius Malfoy to you, Granger."

Matthew raised his eyebrows at Draco's interjection, interested in Malfoy's out of office relationship with the new and _only_ female board member.

"Yes, I did," Blooming answered with a light smirk.

"Excuse me if I'm wrong," Hermione pressed, "But you're so young!"

"I joined the company nine years ago, fresh out of high school. I was always above university anyway."

_Great another man who thinks he's much too good for anything_.

"I'm Nikhil Clayton, muggle, and Head of Mergers and Acquisitions. We buy and sell portions of Malfoy Industries."

The Indian man looked the most disinterested in the going-ons. She decided she liked him best. Her eyes rested on Nott's brown and she beamed.

"Head of Wizarding Relations," he said with a wink, "Why don't you tell everyone else what you're going to do and a little bit about yourself."

She blushed at the rapt attention of the men, save Malfoy and Clayton.

"I'm Hermione Jean Granger, a witch who went to school with Malfoy, Nott, Pucey, and Zabini. I work for the Ministry of Magic as Head of Muggle Relations and Protection. This isn't part of my job description, working for Malfoy Industries, I mean, but I'm taking on this part-time position as an adjunct to my job at the Ministry. I'll be working with Nott as Head of Muggle Relations with the muggle investors during the cellular prototype process."

"I thought you said she was a troll," Clayton piped up.

The men chuckled and Hermione felt herself shrinking to the size of a Bertie Bott's jellybean. Malfoy opened his mouth to insult her; she could see the devilish gleam in his eyes.

"Alright you lot, we've got a lot of work to do if we want this new cellular prototype to hit the shelves by the end of next quarter."

The men nodded and mumbled in agreement. They shook hands with Hermione – taking a moment to admire her ample cleavage - and headed towards their respective departments.

Hermione simply refused to believe Zabini was the one who interrupted Malfoy's obvious planned verbal attack.

"Zabini–"

"Don't say anything, Granger. I wasn't saving your filthy skin, I just didn't want Malfoy ripping out that nest you call hair in the middle of the conference room, alright?"

Hermione nodded dumbly. Even she didn't want to instigate a fight between Zabini already. He nodded and left her, Nott, and Malfoy in the conference room. Draco was putting his files away and glaring at Granger.

"If you're going to attempt to ruin every meeting, Granger, just give me a heads up so I'll at least bring a wand and a book of dark magic. Or would you prefer a coloring book?"

"You're such a child, Malfoy. You were the one who told them I was a troll!"

"I'm not the one lacking a sense of humor."

"I'm not the one lacking any decency and professionalism whatsoever."

The two snarled at each other.

"Granger," Nott warned, "Time to go."

He took her arm and pulled her unwillingly after him. Malfoy just looked after her, also taking this time to notice how shapely her legs were under her tight pencil skirt.

_Fuck, Draco, stop thinking about Granger! Clearly you haven't had enough action in the past week - it's obviously time for you to get wasted and shag a witch or two._

Out of Malfoy's sight and round a bend, Hermione wrenched her arm from Theo's grasp, but followed him back to their office. She had to, she still didn't know her way around the office.

"Sorry about that, Granger. I just didn't need two integral parts of our operation Crucio-ed before the first press conference."

Hermione just scoffed and stalked towards her office.

"Granger! Don't be mad."

She turned and softened at the genuinely hurt expression on his features.

"Sorry, Nott."

After careful consideration, Theo spoke up.

"I know you were being sardonic when I met you at the Ministry last week and you requested I call you by your first name. But I think, Hermione, I'd like you to call me Theo."

Hermione raised both eyebrows but internally acquiesced. She liked Nott a lot more than she'd let on.

"I'd like that."

She turned to leave but stopped when she heard Nott's voice again.

"If you're not too busy Hermione, I'd like to take you out to dinner sometime this weel. I mean, only if you want–"

"Nott," she interjected, smiling like a pubescent teenage girl being asked to prom, "I'd love to."

They exchanged smiles and turned their separate ways. Hermione beamed upon entering her large office, kicking off her pumps and leaning back in her office chair. She noticed that Malfoy had exchanged her initial mesh office chair to one of fine Italian material - even better than the couches outside his office. She breathed in the aroma of new leather, grinning like a fool.

_Perhaps working with Malfoy wasn't going to be so bad after all._

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the reviews again! And if you haven't reviewed – this can be my New Year's gift from you guys! Kudos to the reviews, more specifically the reviewers, that have kept me going!


	6. Malfoy, Do You Enjoy Your Own Company?

Wow! So many awesome reviews and hits (1000! AHHH)! Thanks thanks thanks!

ICorona23 and anyone else confused about Harry and Malfoy's Interaction:

Harry and Malfoy's contact is a bit ambiguous, like you said, at the moment. However this does have a reason and as I keep writing you'll get to know more about Rabastan's and Rodolphus' involvement in the story. The two uncles make an appearance in this chapter – with more to come – and Narcissa will feature in the next few. That's all I can tell you guys so far – sans the spice and intricate details of course. Thanks for the review!

SailorSlytherin93:

Thanks for the review, love! Now to answer your questions:

1) This is a progressive story like I've said before. I don't want to say anything about Malfoy and Hermione's sexual encounters just yet but I will point out that I've rated this story M for a reason (enough said).

2) Harry is acutely aware of Hermione's danger and is protecting her with Aurors safeguarding her flat and condoning Hermione's job at Malfoy Industries. However, Ron isn't a very significant character in the story particularly in relation to Hermione and Malfoy. That being said, he still makes appearances.

And I really appreciate the praise to my vocabulary. I think it's from all the SAT practice I do…

On a sadder note, **I won't be updating as often anymore** – back to boarding school I go! But do not fret, I will try and update at least once every fortnight though the chapters may be shorter (internal grimace).

So, here is an extra long chapter for all you loyal readers and reviewers. I LOVE YOU GUYS! Thank you all, enjoy, and to all, goodnight!

**Disclaimer: All belong to J. K. Rowling. Fruits of my labor. **

* * *

Ginny passed the steaming cup of Earl Gray tea to her grateful husband. He was propped up in their bed, tired green eyes perusing yesterday's Daily Prophet. Harry's rimmed spectacles slipped down his nose as he took the hot mug from her.

"Thanks, Gin. It's been a tiresome day."

She smiled up at her husband of five years, brushing his unruly black curls from his forehead.

"I can only imagine…"

"Are the kids asleep?"

"I had to carry James and Rose to bed. The sorry sods fell asleep on the couch with George again."

Harry pat the bedside and helped his pregnant wife get under the covers. She closed her eyes and carefully laid her head against the backboard, listening to the heartbeat of the joyful burden growing inside of her.

"My shoulder is a lot comfier and aesthetically pleasing to the eye than that wooden panel you rest on, love."

"If that's your best pick up line you've got, Harry, at least you know I didn't marry you for your eloquence."

"What a lie! At least you know I didn't marry you for your veracity."

Ginny laughed and Harry shifted so that she rested against his chest. The couple closed their fatigued eyes, exhausted from the past few weeks and simply enjoying the silence of each other's company.

"I can hear your heart beating," Ginny whispered.

Harry's heart clenched with pure ecstasy. There was no one in this world as humble and beautiful as the woman he was lucky to call his wife. He laced their fingers together and kissed the top of Ginny's forehead.

"Only six more months, six more months till the next Potter is born! I guess you can't keep your hands off of me, Mrs. Potter, you vixen."

"More like you need a shag every twenty seconds."

"That sounds about right."

They exchanged playful grins.

"He's going to be beautiful, Harry."

"Just like you," Harry whispered into her red mane.

This time Ginny kissed his lips thoroughly. He happy complied; kissing his wife as though they were newly weds once more. When she pulled away, a blissful sigh escaped her now bruised lips, and Harry moved his hand to massage the swelling of her stomach. He truly couldn't believe how fortunate and blessed he was.

"I was over at Hermione's today helping her get ready for a date with someone from work."

Harry appeared surprised.

"With whom?"

"Theodore Nott, do you remember him from school? All I remember of the boy was that he kept to himself and looked eternally pensive, but liked books as much as Hermione. I think they'll make a phenomenal match, don't you?"

"He was alright in school, I suppose. Better him than Zabini any day."

Ginny's eyebrows furrowed and then relaxed.

"Funny, she said the same thing. Anyway, he's taking her to dinner at the new place in Diagon Alley. It's Victoria Frobishe's new restaurant and I heard it's fantastic. Do you remember the name of the place?"

"One More Knight, I think."

"Mhm."

Harry rubbed his eyes and cracked his neck, annoyed and distinctly uncomfortable.

"Nott? She's really going on a date with _him_?"

He stressed the _him_; it was Nott after all.

"She does work closely with Nott, and from all the alternatives at Malfoy Industries I can tell why she chose Theo of all people."

She ignored his grunt of disapproval and told him of their preparation.

"She looked absolutely stunning wearing the black dress she bought in Paris last year. Do you remember that one?"

"The one she wore to the Chudley Cannons team dinner Ron dragged us all to? Yes, Ginny, I remember it distinctly. It's rather difficult to forget Oliver Wood ogling your best friend and Randolph Burrow trying to get in Hermione's knickers within the same five minutes. It was quite a dress. However, I don't understand why you keep insinuating I have memory loss when I clearly don't."

Ginny ignored his add-on.

"Anyway, we attacked her hair with a bottle of Silk and Shiny Witch for about an hour and then picked out her lingerie– "

"Ginny! I don't want to hear about Hermione's kni– undergarments."

Ginny winked and Harry just sighed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

_Naughty wench._

As Harry stroked Ginny's chestnut hair, he remembered and frowned upon the recent events at work. Malfoy's lead had promise, much potential actually. What irked Harry so much was the lack of evidence.

Rodolphus and Rabastan seemed ignorant to the consequences of lying to their interrogators, and chose the questionings as a time to tease the Aurors and speak in rhyme and riddle. Harry's patience was running thin. If he heard 'your prose is beyond purple; it's three shades of it' from Rodolphus one more time, he would cast Sectumsempra indefinitely.

Harry was overwrought and worried at this particular moment by Rabastan's most recent name drop in relation to Hermione's welfare: Theodore Nott.

_"Welcome back, Harry James Potter."_

_Rabastan cackled maniacally and then convulsed, suddenly scratching viciously at his tongue as if to remove the traces of Potter's filthy name from his decrepit body. The indecorous state of the two men disturbed Harry, but neither accepted servitude nor help from the Azkaban guards. In fact, both senescent men threatened to maim anyone who attempted to provide aid. Nonetheless, Harry didn't care for their wellbeing in the slightest._

_"Rodolphus, Rabastan. I'm sick of playing this game of pursuit with you and listening to your senseless digressions. Either tell me what you two have planned or rot in Azkaban you're entire miserable lives!"_

_"Potter, you filthy blood traitor. Do you truly care for the mudblood that much? Love, Potter, does not exist. Even if caring in great quantity for the mudblood would suffice, it would all waste to naught," came the Lestrange's terse response._

_"Don't call her that, Rodolphus!"_

_Harry slammed his fist against the interrogation table. The two aged men cast him a bored glance._

_"That was about as intimidating as Lockhart with the Elder Wand."_

_The two uncles snickered._

_"And what of Lucius?"_

_Rabastan's eyes narrowed._

_"Lucius has nothing to do with this, Potter."_

_Then to Harry's sheer horror Rodolphus threw himself from the interrogation chair to the mud clad prison floor and curled to the fetal position. He intoned,_

_"Forgive me, my Dark Lord. We only do your biddings!"_

_The man cried shrilly and began beating and thrashing his own body, tearing at his near translucent skin, bleeding from his neck and cheek._

_"Get some Aurors in here right now!"_

_Gawain Robards, the overseer, and Ron, his partner, flung open the enchanted iron gate and stupefied the catatonic Lestrange. Harry turned to Rabastan who appeared unfazed by his brother's hysteria. The uncle looked lifeless, staring straight ahead with his eyes lacking any poignancy. His arms lay comatose by his side and Harry wondered if Rabastan was even alive._

_Ron clapped his shoulder._

_"Good riddance if he's dead anyway."_

_Unexpectedly, Rabastan leaped from his seat and wrapped his bony hands around Harry's neck, choking the boy wonder. Ron and Gawain reacted quickly, pointing their wands at Rabastan._

_"If you know what's good for you Lestrange," Ron barked, looking positively deadly, "You'll release Harry right now!"_

_Rabastan chuckled and breathed hotly in Harry's ear._

_"Call off your men, Potter, it's not us you want."_

_Harry struggled from the old man's forced rigor mortis death-grip. Rabastan's gauche uncut nails pierced into Harry's forearm. He yelped in pain but heard Rabastan's barely audible declaration._

_"It's Theodore Nott you want."_

Harry shivered at remembering Rabastan's chilling words and Ginny looked up into his troubled eyes.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

He calmed himself for her and squeezed Ginny's shoulder.

"Never better."

She mumbled a 'then stop moving, Harry' and cushioned herself against him once more. He waited patiently until her erratic breathing paced, indicating his wife's slumber. With Ginny sleeping by his side, Harry closed his apprehension filled green orbs and wished.

_For your sake, Hermione, I hope Rabastan lied._

* * *

"Are you sure I told you how stunning you look, Hermione?"

She beamed unabashedly.

"That's the fourth time, Theo. But, I don't think I'll get sick of you saying it."

He gave a knowing wink and rested his arm around her uncovered shoulders. He kissed the bare skin and she nestled against him. Theo liked Ginny Weasley immeasurably now; Hermione had told Theo that she was the one who'd forced her into the tight black slip dress.

And Theo could not stop mentally thanking the She Weasel more.

Nott hadn't recognized Hermione when he first entered the bar at The Three Broomsticks. The outfit was a small black one-shoulder fitted dress that he ecstatically noted barely covered the girl's bum. It hugged Hermione at all her right assets, and showed off features he'd never even noticed before. The way she demurely smiled at him with her rouge lipstick and smoky silver eye shadow had practically knocked Theo's wand from his hand.

Had he ever been this physically attracted to a woman before? Not bloody likely. Had he ever wanted to shag someone so much it was painful to sit beside her and not envision her naked? Not fucking ever.

"It's so crowded, and we're not even seated yet."

Theodore laughed and Hermione blushed in spite of herself.

"Of course it is Hermione! Hey, did you say hello to Victoria Frobishe at the welcome desk? She asked for you."

"Theo, I recall you didn't even wave to Victoria."

The Slytherin shrugged and cozied closer to his date.

"The Ravenclaw's your friend, not mine."

At the gush of chilling Autumn wind, Theo gave a menacing look to the flock of witches and wizards entering the restaurant.

"I'm so sorry for not getting us a reservation; Daphne didn't tell me it would be this packed!"

Hermione just looked around and waved at someone else waiting for seats. Nott craned his neck trying to identify Hermione's friend.

"It's Justus Pilliwickle, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. See that dark-haired man with the weedy complexion and navy blue sweater?"

Theo shook his head, still looking through the restaurants shadowed lights. Theodore wondered if the restaurant was in need of some proper light fixtures or they were purposely attempting the sensual faintly lit vibe. She wiggled her eyebrows as if to say 'don't worry about it'.

"Waiting's not a problem, Theo. I just didn't imagine 'One More Knight' would be this popular!"

Theodore chose this moment to look down her dress. He smiled, enjoying the sight.

_Nice tits, Granger._

"Mhm… did you said something, Hermione?"

"HIDE!"

Hermione abruptly grabbed his hand and pulled him next to her crouched form. Theo tried looking through the multitude of dresses and robes blocking his view, struggling to identify the reason - or person - behind Hermione's attempted concealment.

"Why are we ensconced on the floor, Hermione?"

Her flushed face mouthed something rapidly and then proceeded to turn away from him.

"What's that Granger?" Theo asked loudly.

"Granger?"

Nott heard Malfoy's svelte confused voice ring from somewhere in the restaurant vicinity.

"Did someone say Granger?"

Hermione turned around and flicked Theo off. He just grabbed her finger and pulled her closer to him, chuckling.

"Thanks Theo. Now we have to get up and pretend as though we weren't hiding from the bloody git."

"I was never hiding."

And with that, Theodore pulled the flustered Hermione Granger to her feet.

"Ah, Nott! Nice to see you bloke."

Hermione saw Malfoy's white blond caricature elbowing his way through the crowd.

"Watch it!"

Malfoy froze and theatrically rotated to face the outspoken fellow, his dark eyes calamitous.

"What did you just say to me?" Malfoy spat.

The corners of his pale nose flared rubicund and Hermione flinched for the poor man who –to save his own hide – retreated from Malfoy's reach.

"That's _exactly _what I thought."

Malfoy spun lethargically and headed in Nott's direction, his side-to-side swagger clearly a display for the witches that eyed him eagerly.

_Merlin if you can hear me, please take me now._

She closed her mousse brown eyes and inwardly cussed. When her eyelids fluttered opened, Malfoy stood smirking before her.

_Merlin, do you really hate me so?_

"What are you, a vampire?"

"Fancy seeing you here, Granger, and articulate as always I see. I thought this place would be much too expensive for a mudblood."

"And I thought Victoria would be above permitting murderers to eat at her restaurant."

"Watch yourself, Granger."

Nott pressed his palm against the small of Hermione's back and she quivered at his quiet gesture. She decided to keep her quips to herself, if just for her date.

"Out and about, Draco?" Theodore asked cordially, visibly bothered at Malfoy for interrupting his rendezvous with Hermione.

Malfoy smiled his most smug punchable expression.

"Just here with a _friend _from Brazil; Gissel."

Hermione almost collapsed when Malfoy's slender finger pointed out his 'friend'. Surrounded by a gaggle of infatuated men stood a tall bronzed voluptuous beauty. The woman seemed to be successfully entertaining the men, given their spellbound attention. Or perhaps they were staring at her perky breasts. Hermione couldn't decide.

Of course Malfoy would date a siren like that. She was exotic and sexy in all the ways Hermione was not. She frowned, feeling rather frumpy all of a sudden.

"Gissel, vir aqui."

The Brazilian bombshell looked in Malfoy's direction and winked at his call. She kissed the blushing men on their cheeks and sauntered over to Draco. Gissel slipped beside him and he wrapped his arm genteelly around her thin waist.

"Oh Dray-co! I amz just having so mush fun! Zeez mens are zo kind."

Hermione noticed and relished Draco's embarrassment. To her annoyance he hid it well.

"Gissel, this is my dear friend Theodore 'Theo' Nott and his girlfriend Granger."

Theo presented his hand but the buzzed Gissel wrapped her arms around the man. Hermione was glaring at the devilish grin on Malfoy's lips.

"I'm _Hermione_ and contrary to what Malfoy just said, I'm not Theo's girl-"

"Oh, Hermey-oh-nee! Butiful names Zeo and Hermey-oh-nee!"

The woman pulled away from the flushing Nott and embraced Hermione, rubbing her breasts against Hermione's face. She scowled forebodingly at Malfoy's pretentious snigger and Theo's laughter. Once Gissel pulled away, Hermione fought the urge to crawl into a Death Eater's grave and beg someone to cover her with maggot-infested dirt that impulse being an understatement to how embarrassed she was.

"Are you waiting to be seated too, Draco?"

"Nott, I am Draco Lucius Malfoy. Malfoys don't wait for anything."

_Go figure._

Theodore and Hermione exchanged knowing looks.

"Draco Malfoy and company?"

The four turned to the restaurant seater, a middle-aged witch with an enchanted clip board and scribbling quill. The seater nodded at Malfoy and gestured.

"Enjoy waiting another two hours, Nott. Granger."

Malfoy's retreating form waved in departure, and he walked away with Gissel in tow.

"Wait Dray-co! Letz invite-ah Zeo and Hermey-oh-nee to zit wit us. Zey are so nice!"

Before Malfoy could protest his Brazilian beauty turned coat and called them over.

_Another member on board team Granger. Fan-fucking-tastic._

"Zeo, Hermey-oh-nee! Dray-co and I vant you to seet wit us!"

Hermione's eyes widened and she turned quickly to Theo as if to say 'don't do it!'

"We'd love to."

Hermione's face fell. Instead of enjoying her date, she would have to spend two hours in Malfoy the Wanker's company listening to him cow over Gissel.

_Joy._

"Sorry, Hermione," Theo apologized as they followed Malfoy and Gissel to their table, "I just couldn't stand waiting to be seated any longer. You know, men and our appetites."

Hermione thought of Ron and smiled deliberately. She knew all too well of men and their insatiable appetites.

"Its fine, Theo. Really."

"Stop yakking, Granger."

Hermione scowled again at a very pleased Malfoy. She hated him, she really did.

* * *

Malfoy glowered upon entering One More Knight. With the line waiting for tables nearly a kilometer long, Draco was gratified that Greengrass had encouraged him to reserve seats. The only thing he did not appreciate was the Brazilian bint clutching his arm. When Nott and Malfoy met up with Parkinson and the Greengrasses, Daphne had set him up with Gissel with the intention of getting him a satisfying one-night stand.

Sure, he implored, she would make a fantastic shag but her wailing voice and platitudinous personality outweighed the hours of sex he expected at the end of the night.

_At least, Granger won't be on my mind anymore_.

Their week at the office had been a hectic but enjoyable one for Draco. He went out of his way to disrupt Hermione's work and called her to his office to complete mundane tasks. He treasured her protests and complaints; enjoying their stare offs during the last few board meetings as well. They didn't go a day without verbally slashing at each other's throats, and to Draco, the day was not complete without vexing Granger.

Gissel said something about him looking handsome and he masked his apathetic sentiments with a smirk. At least he didn't fake himself around Granger. Gissel's words were incoherent as he pictured Hermione at his side. She wouldn't be gripping arm; she would be strutting confidently next to him. He envisioned lacing their fingers together and her shy smile.

_God, mudblood, the things you do to me…_

He was seeing her everywhere, even in his home. At times he had begun wondering if he was barking mad. She would be flipping through a book in the kitchen, but dematerialize as he reached out to caress her cheek. The same went for his home office. She would appear in a glossy green nightgown, one strap falling enticingly down her creamy shoulder, legs crossed but perched on his new oak wood desk. She would wink as he sauntered towards her; his need to shag her right then and there overwhelming. Malfoy wished his delusions were a reality.

He shook his head and cursed inwardly for thinking of her that way.

_She's still mudblood know-it-all insufferable Gr–_

"What's that Granger?"

Malfoy stopped and looked around. He could've sworn he'd heard her name.

"Granger?" he called, "Did someone say Granger?"

As the crowd cleared, he saw Theodore chatting to a flustered Hermione and headed towards his friend. He pushed his way through the pulsating crowd; he had to get to _his_ mudblood. After threatening an innocent individual for reprimanding his pushing, Malfoy reached them. He saw her drooped eyelids and savored the sight. He doubted he'd ever seen her look more captivating. She was dressed in a simple black dress, less grandiose than that of his date yet he found himself comparing his mudblood to Gissel, and found she dwarfed the Brazilian slag in every sense.

She opened her eyes and peered at him through her lashes. His breathing hitched. What was that bullshit about plain Jane Granger being a pain in the arse? He must've been thinking of the wrong person. Standing before him was this goddess looking as though she'd sprung from one of his dreams. He remembered the last time he'd seen her in a dress. It was at the Yule Ball in that pink throw up of a gown, dancing with Victor Krum. She'd looked okay then. There was something about that pink dress and Hermione in it that hadn't churned his fourth year insides.

This was a whole other story. The way the transient restaurant lights caught her dress made Hermione appear luminescent. Her hair looked treated, and he wasn't sure if he preferred this to her trademark mass of curls. He tried not to shiver at the thought of his mudblood within a foot of him - it was all he could do to stop himself from kissing her. He tasted her from where he stood, he could practically inhale her books and lavender scent.

"What are you, a vampire?" Hermione snapped at his rubbernecking.

He smirked and introduced them to his date Gissel. He wished the Brazilian would stop her flirting and hoped that Hermione was intimidated by his date. Granger's frowns told him she was.

He couldn't stand being so close to her and not touching his childhood nemesis any longer. He could barely conceal his relief when the seater called his name.

"Enjoy waiting another two hours, Nott. Granger."

Much to his chagrin, Gissel invited Theo and Hermione to sit with them. Now the four shared seating at the restaurant's best table in an uncomfortable, pregnant silence. The white candles, rose centerpiece, and outlaid menus attempted a romantic atmosphere, but Gissel's drunken self and Hermione's cold shoulder attitude steered clear of that convivial medium.

"So, Hermey-oh-nee, do youz work wit ma Dray-co?"

Draco watched Hermione nod as she took a sip of Firewhiskey. The girl had a stomach, who knew?

"We all work together, Gissel."

Gissel drunkenly grinned at Theo. She had already downed three shots of Firewhiskey and her hand was creeping very hazardously up Draco's pant leg. That, and watching Hermione lose herself in her second glass of scotch, was a very dangerous combination for a Malfoy erection.

"I didn't know prudes drank alcohol," he directed at Hermione.

"Ha! You're funny Malfoy. I didn't know St. Mungo's let nutters like you drink Firewhiskey either."

"I bet your brain feels as good as new from all that alcohol Granger, seeing as you never use it anyway."

"That's rich coming from you, but I'm busy right now, can I ignore you later?"

"Wow, mature. You know what they say - if ignorance is bliss, people like you, Granger, must be the happiest alive."

"Better alive than a Death Eater."

"Better a Death Eater than a soul sucker."

"Better a soul sucker than a man whore."

Draco grinned.

"I'll have to debate you on that one, prig."

Hermione scowled at being momentarily out witted by Malfoy, a rare occurrence in her book.

"If you scowl any harder, Granger, you'll permanently have that unpleasant expression etched on your exterior. But Merlin knows it's more attractive than that thing you call a face."

"I guess you just bring out the ugly side of me, Ferret."

Theo laughed with mirth and took the liberty of opening her menu. Lightly inebriated, she smiled crookedly at him and flipped the page.

It was at this moment that Hermione noticed Gissel's outstretched arm between Malfoy's legs. She could not help but glare. When Draco saw her outright staring and disbelief, he decided to use it to his advantage. The blond haired wizard leaned into Gissel and began nibbling her ear.

_Dear God, Hermione Granger, what is he doing._

Hermione blushed and turned to Theo. Draco stopped toying with Gissel's ear and his lips started on a very sensual and exaggerated journey down Gissel's neck. He could see Hermione's discomfort from his periphery.

Hermione thrust herself into holding a conversation with Theo and ignoring his show. Nott looked thoroughly pissed and shot Malfoy daggers from across the table, while his mudblood only surreptitiously glanced at his assault of Gissel's neck. He heard his Brazilian beauty moan and took that as his signal to pull away.

"Thank you for that, Draco."

Malfoy smiled cockily at Theo and returned to reading his menu. A smile played at his lips when he caught Hermione's stare. She simpered.

_You know what Malfoy? Two can play at this game._

In retaliation, Hermione swung her knees to touch Theo's. She forced herself to laugh at his every word and took many opportunities to lean forward, giving Theo – and Malfoy – many a glimpse at her ample bosom. She didn't even shrug Nott's hand from her upper thigh and instead moved closer so that her breath prickled his neck. She could see Theo's manhood bulge as her fingers trailed up his pant leg. She savored Malfoy's heavy breathing and toxic glare as well.

He one-upped Hermione by snogging Gissel full on the lips. She ignored his move by kissing Theo demurely on the cheek and causing Nott to tint pink. She turned to Malfoy and raised her eyebrows challenging him to continue the game.

_Don't push me, Granger. Malfoy's always win._

Draco teased Hermione by diving his hand between Gissel's slim thighs.

"Oh my!" she heard Malfoy's date gasp before her eyes rolled to the ceiling in pure bliss.

_Oh Merlin…_

The flustered Hermione leaped from her chair and Malfoy's eyes locked on hers expectantly.

"Hermione?" Theo asked, his cheeks frescoed crimson by her outward displays of affection, "Is everything alright?"

Malfoy smirked at this.

_That twit._

"Sorry, Theo, I'm knackered. Working at the Ministry and Malfoy Industries simultaneously isn't kind to a woman's beauty sleep. Do you mind if we call it a night?"

"What?" Malfoy interrupted lividly, "You haven't even eaten yet, Granger."

His undertone was wicked.

"Bugger off, Malfoy. Please Theo."

Theodore just smiled and rose, pulling off his unsoiled napkin. Ever the gentleman, she thought pleasantly.

"Of course, Hermione."

He took her hand and delicately kissed her knuckles with his soft lips.

"Oh Dray-co! Howz nice iz Zeo!"

"Get a room."

Malfoy's voiced was clipped and acerbic.

"Lovely to meet you," Hermione shook hands with Gissel ignoring Draco's juvenile behavior, "No, no you don't need to get up. Enjoy your date, Malfoy."

And with that, Malfoy's two Relations Managers left their table and exited the restaurant. He didn't miss Theo's hand resting just a hair above Hermione's bum. Annoyed with Theo's conduct, he grimaced at Gissel's voice.

"What iz dis on zee meenoo? Woolf steek?"

He looked longingly at the doors wishing his goddess to return.

_I'll be sure to enjoy my date, mudblood._

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to get dinner, Hermione?"

Theo brushed a deep curl from the frame of her face. She blushed at his meaningful action.

"No, thanks. I think watching Malfoy and Gissel suck face made me lose my appetite. That bloody pain."

Theo snickered. They stood outside her flat in downtown London, the city's dark night sky illuminated by streetlamps and vehicle lights.

"For what it's worth I had a wonderful night."

She smiled at Theo through her mascared lashes.

"Me too."

And before she had the time to react, his lips were on hers. Lightheaded and dazed, Hermione didn't notice her hands traveling to his neck and fingers intertwining in his soft hair. It all felt so surreal, so natural and familiar. He pressed her against the apartment door and she sighed as her body fit shapely in his. They moved rhythmically, exploring each others mouth and body. His hands travelled down the sides of her dress and thumbed at her nipples. She groaned pleasurably as they hardened, his fingers expertly working at her breasts.

With the liquor palpitating through her veins, she hadn't noticed Theo hiking up the bottom of her dress. She gasped as his hands rested on her bottom. Hermione tried to push him away, but her body felt helpless against his brawny chest. When he fingered at her knickers she finally gained control of her own body and shoved him off, eyes wide and baffled.

"What the fuck?"

She pressed her fingers to her lips and just gaped at the breathless man before her.

"Don't you want this, Hermione?"

His voice was low and husky as he leaned in for another kiss.

"No Theo!"

She fended him off by pulling out her wand and backed away.

"I don't want this, not right now anyway."

He frowned and rubbed his temples.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I'm just drunk and a tad lonely, and you look bloody ravishing tonight."

His apology was so sincere that Hermione felt herself nodding.

"I understand Theo, but I don't do _that _kind of stuff on a first date. I have my morals to keep."

"And so do I!"

She gave him a small smile to his outburst. He took her hand in his and traced his finger up her arm, ending with a kiss on her shoulder.

"Forgive me, Hermione."

"Already have."

He bowed and waited as she unlocked her flat door. She stepped inside the dimly lit apartment and shrugged off her coat, quickly returning to the waiting Theo.

"Until next time, love."

He kissed her softly and Apparated away. Hermione leaned against her doorframe, thinking of Theo. He was the epitome of a gentleman, so unlike and opposite to Malfoy. But when her thoughts drifted to the mysterious cheeky git, Hermione murmured.

What made Malfoy so appealing to her? Was it his charm and quick tongue? Was it his unpredictable bad boy behavior? Was it his seductive musky scent? She couldn't decide, but one thing was for certain. This Malfoy infatuation showed no signs of disappearing any time soon.

* * *

A/N: (insert bribery for reviews). Thanks again to all my lovelies who have favorited and reviewed!

Thanks again to all my lovelies that reviewed!


	7. Of Love and Squalor

And here is the heavily anticipated chapter seven. Excuse it for being so short - I haven't had much time to write. However, I think this is one of my best chapters yet so **REVIEW**!

A/N: **I will be responding to all questions and reviews in the REVIEW AREA.** So if you guys have any suggestions or questions you want personally answered, I'll do my best. Also, since I have no beta I've noticed I make a couple grammatical errors here and there; excuse them.

Disclaimer: Everyone and everything (save my plot bunny) belongs to JKR.

* * *

Draco listened, listened to the melodious breathing of the woman next to him. Though he could not tear his brooding grey eyes off his bedroom's trellised panes and detailed carvings of the ceiling, Malfoy simply listened. He was unsure as to what he hoped to achieve from her deep sighs and murmurs, but nevertheless he was stilled by her sounds.

Draco laughed crudely to himself; did he truly think he could forget Hermione's large, luminous, liquid brown eyes and pallid rosy lips with a phenomenal meaningless shag? Did he think he'd forget her delicately curved nose, or soft pink-tinted cheeks from such a hollow act? Did he truly hate her wild gossamer-like silken hair, or did he yearn to run his long slender fingers through her soft curls and inhale the scent of books and lavender? A lowly sigh escaped his lips and Gissel stirred.

Draco lowered his eyes and stared into the edon blackness of the floors. All he could see, smell, was Hermione Granger. She was a fine tangled web-work in his cavernous mind; she was exhilaration. Draco cracked his knuckles, infuriated.

_She is nothing but a fucking mudblood, dirty filthy scum._

His heart beat viciously against his chest. Whatever half-pleasurable thought Draco hoped to receive from that lackluster declaration wasted to naught. He was still existent in this vivid force of the sensations known as Hermione Jean Granger. Draco felt himself tremble with trepidation.

He couldn't understand what made her so addicting to him. She wasn't exotic like Gissel or regal like his mother, yet she carried an air of confidence and beauty so unlike any woman he'd ever met. She wouldn't be a woman that shagged him for his wealth, nor someone who fucked him for her own personal hands-on experience with the proclaimed 'Slytherin Sex God'.

He ran his fingers through his white-blonde hair. He knew she would not be infatuated with the likes of a Malfoy, the poor cowardly fool that taunted her with his spiteful words all throughout her high school years. She would never bring herself to kiss the lips of a now-changed enigmatic fellow who irked her to no end. Lo, how could Hermione – that sickly beauteous Circe – ever think of him the way he fantasized of her.

All Draco could see was red. Blood dripping, lip-staining rouge. This deplorable folly was eating away at his soul, the only part of him he desired to save. These many solemn hours spent obsessing over Hermione had gotten nowhere, just to the point of Malfoy's cataleptical insanity.

He was a beast; what with his ghostly pallor of the skin and hair of web-like softness and tenuity - his mind a labyrinth, himself a mystery. He'd killed mercilessly, he'd hated purblindly and irrationally. There was nothing worth keeping except his leaden- hued heart that beat only for one magnificent creature.

Draco arose from the sweaty sheets and stood facing the wall, lost in feeble gleams of encrimsoned light dancing on the rich green of his walls. He turned and tried to savor the sight of Gissel's naked form. She was innocent, and Draco knew he shouldn't have brought her to his bed. Gissel was too much of a child, too naïve to entangle herself in the depths of his dark mind.

He quietly left the room, ignoring the whispers and sneers of his ancestor's portraits. There was only one place he wished to go – one place he wished to remain isolated in thought.

Through maze of the Malfoy Manor, Draco finally reached his father's personal library. His fingers quivered against the handle; he could already feel the dark magic and sinful sentiments pervading his soul.

_To forget her._

And with that simple phrase, Draco pushed open the door. He felt nothing but the chilling shadowy air encircle him and pull him inside. This was his home, his place. This library was the only thing embodying Draco: pure perpetual darkness.

He closed his eyes again, listening. He could hear the low hum of the ancient books whispering his name in a trance-like call. He let himself leave all coherent thoughts and let the malevolent permeate his soul. It was already within him, now latent, but the dark magic around him could arouse a man so different to this emotionally troubled Malfoy.

Memories of the war deluged Draco, causing him to stumble under the psychological burden. The image of Voldemort's supercilious across-the-table deride was etched in his mind, and he felt the cool touch of Aunt Bella's wand against his trembling cheek.

His knees sunk to the floor as her face appeared. Her contorted unnaturally twisted body appeared in his mind, her then unruly hair whipping against her own body. Her piercing screams and sobs from Bellatrix's Crucio were too much for Malfoy to handle. He felt himself rising at the sounds of her lithe bones snapping. He staggered towards the wall, this time the impermeable cinder stones of his father's library.

He remembered her deathly pale face and chapped white lips; how hollow and sorry he'd felt when the tortured seventeen-year-old Hermione caught his eyes and pleaded. And what had he done? He'd turned away, shamefully turned away from the woman that now consumed his every fiber. All he felt next was the cool rush of release and blackness as the bones in his hand crunched painfully against the brick wall.

* * *

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	8. Of Love and Squalor, Part 2

HELLO AGAIN ALL FAITHFUL READERS! I apologize for not writing in what seems like a millennia - school takes up a gross amount of my time, yet I love everything about it.

Firstly, I have noticed, and quite shamefully might I add, that I can't proofread for my life. Therefore, here's an **open call audition for ANYONE who would like to be my beta reader**! This will include reading my chapters and being brutally honest. If you are interested please shoot an email to or INBOX me here. I'm more likely to respond to my actual email. All I need in your "audition" is a link to a story you have beta'd AND/OR a story you have written (I would prefer another Dramione but really anything will do). Looking forward to it!

Secondly, I LOVE your reviews especially a recent one from EllenDraper: I will now use their names sparingly. You were too right; the overuse is so evident.

And lastly, this chapter isn't one of my best yet it's a filler that needed to happen to keep the story going. Hopefully the ending will be to your liking.

**REVIEW REVIEW** if you want MORE! and again - email me if you want to be my **BETA!**

* * *

Hermione shuddered.

_Perhaps the Ministry was having another cold flash as an Auror Apparated back from the North Pole._

She took a generous sip of her steaming tea and continued perusing the documents in front of her. Now was the time of year when Hogwarts sent letters to the homes of magical eleven-year-olds across the United Kingdom. She remembered quavering with excitement and apprehension when she received her Hogwarts acceptance letter many years ago. The only thing young Hermione questioned when receiving her letter was whether or not the whole ordeal was a façade.

As Head of Muggle Relations and Protection, Hermione had brought into law the Muggleborn School Relations Act of 2001. As part of this new edict, Aurors and an alumni or professor from Hogwarts were required to visit new muggleborn students and discuss the option of Hogwarts with their parents. The two counterparts were required to retell stories of their Hogwarts days and convey the phenomenal education to the probably confused and doubtful parents and their hyper-excited child.

The law was deemed completely successful as the rate of Muggleborn witches and wizards at Hogwarts and other wizarding schools rose progressively. She prided herself on this law, and took it upon herself to pair the Aurors and alumni/teachers. She knew how ineffective certain duos would be- say, for example, Trelawney and Ron - so she chose to personally pair each group.

She was onto her sixth pairing when there was a knock at her door.

"Come in, doors open!"

One glance at his fiery red hair and Hermione knew Ron was here to apologize. With a sheepish smile on his features, he closed the door with a soft click and took a seat.

"Yes, Ron. Feel free to take a seat," she bit sarcastically.

"Don't be sore, Hermione. You know it was an accident."

His voice was high, pressed even, yet she stubbornly avoided his attempts to catch her eye. They sat in a moment of pregnant silence.

"I'm sorry 'Mione. I shouldn't have said anything about you in bed to Seamus; I was being silly, immature, and jealous. I'm sorry for accidently punching you when Malfoy was around, but he's a sorry git and I won't apologize for socking him in the nuts–"

Hermione made a sound and Ron took this as encouragement.

"I love you, Hermione. You're one of my best friends and I can't stand to have you mad at me all the time. I'm trying to stop the futile comments, but you know me, it's how I'm programmed. I just want my best friend back."

Hermione looked at Ron's eager face. She couldn't help but laugh at his keen nervous self. He was sort of an oxymoron that Ronald Weasley. She smiled.

"Don't worry Ron. It's not a big deal. I still love you – even if you did punch me."

She chuckled at his hurried protests. They smiled comfortably at each other, a sort of ease settling upon them.

Parvati threw open the door, face flushed.

"No way… no way! I refuse to go with fucking Goyle to –"

"Hey Parvati."

Parvati's threaded eyebrow raised at the sight before her. Her eyes narrowed.

"Ron. Hermione."

Hermione glanced from Parvati to Ron and back. The rise in Parvati's voice and Ron's blissful gazing pointed to the obvious; she would declare herself foolish to ignore the undeniable.

Hermione felt a twang of jealousy. It wasn't as though she could help it – she wasn't in the least envious of Ron's crush. She hadn't had feelings for Ron since Merlin knows when…

To Parvati's defense, she looked quite uncomfortable and seemed to be avoiding his ogling, but Hermione detected a creeping blush on the base of her friend's neck.

"Hey Parvati."

"You said that already, Ron," Parvati added curtly.

He colored at her quick tongue.

"Like I was saying, there's no way in Merlin I'm accompanying Goyle to see a prospective student. He may be an Auror, but I'm sure he'll frighten any child away!"

Hermione frowned; it was quite difficult to pair any of the ex-Slytherin Aurors with alumni. And she knew for a fact most of them were changed men, save Malfoy and Pansy. Goyle, for one, invited Hermione out to dinner with his muggle friends and apologized for jeering and belittling her many a time at Hogwarts. She'd dismissed it with a smile and enjoyed the rest of her evening with Greg. Yes, she figured it appropriate now to call him Greg.

"You will go with Greg, Parvati, and you know he's not going to devour any of the kids. Talk to Luna and she'll verify. She went with him last time, after all."

"She was probably staring into space the entire bloody time," the woman muttered, looking warily at the sickly smile on Ron's lips.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. It wasn't like Parvati to hold a vendetta.

"Mustn't you be off Ron?" Parvati chided with a coy smile, "Isn't there an Auror meeting in ten?"

Ron shot out of his seat and attempted to glide past the attractive Indian woman in a smooth sashayed walk. Parvati just rolled her eyes at his awkward movements and departure.

"What was that about?" Parvati asked, her lip curled with distaste.

"Perhaps Ron likes you?"

Parvati laughed with mirth.

"Good joke, Hermione."

Hermione's face deadpanned and Parvati stopped laughing, gaping.

"You're kidding…"

"I'm not the most comical person you know, Parvati."

Parvati bit her bottom lip and thought for a moment. She then shook her head and looked back to an already engrossed Hermione.

"So…" Parvati kicked her feet onto the table and moved some of Hermione's meticulously sorted papers, "How was the date with Theo?"

This time Hermione bit her lip and twisted an unkempt curl around her finger. She was positively glowing, Parvati noted. There was a shine in her cheeks she hadn't seen for months and a twinkle in her eyes that captivated.

_Hmm, Theo my boy, what have you done to our Hermione?_

"We went on a date at 'One More Knight' and it was nice. He was a perfect gentleman, I suppose. There's nothing more to tell."

She shifted some papers and proceeded to scowl.

"Except Malfoy was there with this naïve big breasted Brazilian bint – and did I mention we sat with them for a good fifteen minutes before I lost my appetite? I could have upchucked my stomach right there, Parvati."

Parvati grinned and cowed with laughter.

"I mean Gissel wasn't all that bad – a bit dumb and the language barrier didn't help in the slightest – but what can I say about Malfoy's choice in women? It's frighteningly horrible! And be my witness, Parvati, when I use those adjectives as an understatement."

Parvati's chortles continued, her eyes tearing up.

"Good Merlin Hermione, you are hilarious. Malfoy riles you up, doesn't he? He's a bloody wanker, he is."

"That ferret," Hermione muttered softly.

There was no spite in her words; they were just words. It was as if she could never hate all the irritating aloofness and haughtiness of her childhood enemy. It was as if he was chipping away at this wall of hate and indifference Hermione's mind and soul had erected. She couldn't understand why he bothered her so much. Perhaps… no, that couldn't possibly be it.

There was a knock at the door. And in walked Hannah Abbot, precariously balancing at least two hundred stacks of Auror profiles. Hannah dropped the stack off next to Hermione's otherwise occupied desk. She smiled at the seated women.

"Hey you two! How has your day been?"

Parvati began,

"Been pre–"

"Mine was just great! You know Seamus asked me out on a date? It's going to be just fabulous. You don't mind do you Hermione? You know, since you went out on a date with him almost three weeks ago."

"It's fi–"

"I knew you'd be fine with it! You're just _so_ kind. Here are some more Auror files to pair, and in alphabetical order just as you like it!"

"That's gr–"

"I must be off! Back to the Minister of Magic, I go! Nice to see you Parvati; we must catch up sometime. Dinner this week? Sounds fantastic."

Hannah trailed out the room and slammed the door theatrically in her departure. Hermione regarded the door for a few seconds before shrugging and returning to her papers. Parvati still frowned in confusion.

"Do you ever feel the need to Confund someone as chipper as Hannah Abbot?"

Hermione chuckled.

The door flung open again.

"Which reminds me, _Hermione_, why aren't you at Mungo's?"

Hermione looked up, perplexed, and wrinkled her nose questionably at Hannah's voice.

"I should be at the hospital?"

"Well I got an owl from Demetri this morning. He's on the Malfoy Industries board, as you very well know, and he was at Mungo's early this morning."

"Hmm?"

"Well, you see, apparently Malfoy injured himself and passed out. One of the elves found him in the morning and he's be convalescing in St. Mungo's ever since."

Hermione's eyes flashed with emotion. She acted quickly.

"Can you defer all my Floos and owls, Parvati? I need to go."

"Of course, just owl me if you need anything else."

Hannah felt as though she was interrupting and waved a goodbye, leaving the busied Hermione to look around her office for some Malfoy Industries' files.

"Are you going to be okay, Hermione?"

The brown haired witch's head snapped up and her brows furrowed.

"Why would you say that?"

"You look rather worried and dazed is all."

"I'm fine, Parvati, in fact, I'm wonderful. I just forgot that Malfoy needed to sign some papers for me."

"But he's in the hospital. Can't it wait?"

Hermione raised her hand almost regally.

"Unfortunately, these papers need to be signed and mailed by today. It completely slipped my mind; how could I forget?"

Parvati's eyes held a knowing look as she passed the folders to a grateful Hermione. Files in hand, Hermione stepped into the personal office Floo, a slight frown gracing her pinkish lips.

"See you soon."

* * *

Hermione always thought there was something so inexplicably eerie about St. Mungo's. Perhaps it was the obsessively whitewashed walls or dark windy corridors that stirred unease in Hermione's stomach.

For now it was the eardrum piercing silence that Hermione disliked. She knew that Mungo's thrived in perpetual chaos, but just standing in the quiet hallways made it impossible to perceive the wizarding hospital in that busy existence. Was the hospital charmed to appear deserted or did Mungo's just have so many floors it was near impossible to find more than ten people?

The hallway ended in the near distant, and Hermione saw the silhouettes of three men. As she neared, it appeared to her two shadows were pacing back and forth and another man sat on the row of seats outside a hospital room. Her steps quickened, and the men looked up to see who was coming. Theo spoke first.

"You came?"

"No bloody thanks to any of you, might I add. Do you know how insulted and embarrassed I felt to have your sister tell me _my boss_ was in the hospital?"

Demetri just sighed as if to dismiss her and the men silenced again. Theo spoke for them all when he looked away from her chilling stare.

"How could you, Theo?"

Theo's lip quivered at Hermione's sullen and disappointed voice. His eyes were downcast.

"I wanted to – believe me, I did. Malfoy expressly forbid any of us to contact you. It was trivial and silly reasoning of course, but we could only obey his wishes. He even individually called me out and said he'd fire me if I owled you."

_Fucking Malfoy…_

"That git."

"He basically dictated 'Theo if you fucking tell Granger I am here, I will Crucio your cock faster than you can say Voldemort'. I kid you not, Hermione."

She smiled at him but peered worriedly at the window at which Demetri and Adrian watched.

"He's alright. Just a dumb arse."

"What did he do?" she asked sorely, "Shag Gissel so hard his manhood broke?"

Theo's eyes danced at that, then his voice was solemn.

"No."

"Then what?"

"He punched a wall."

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"He, what?"

"You heard me, Hermione. He punched a wall."

"Excuse me if I seem ignorant when I ask this, but why in Merlin's beard would Malfoy punch a wall?"

"Cause he's an idiot. How the fuck should I know? I didn't ask him – he looked about ready to hex me to next Saturday when I arrived here."

Hermione chewed her bottom lip.

"Like I said, he'll be alright. Just passed out from the pain I think."

"Can I talk to him?"

Theo's eyebrows furrowed.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Hermione, considering he doesn't even know you're here."

Theo reached up and squeezed Hermione's hand. She bit her lip at his small knowing smile.

"He's awake though, isn't he?"

"Yes but–"

Before he could respond, Hermione turned away from him and shoved her way past Pucey and Abbot. She opened the door and charmed it sealed as the boys tried fruitlessly to open the door. She cast a quick Silencio.

Hermione's eyes rested upon the statuesque frame of Draco Malfoy. Her breath hitched as she noticed the thin sheet did not hide the defined muscles of his uncovered upper body. His white blond hair fell over his eyelids and he looked like a sleeping angel. He was beautiful. She moved next to him and pulled up a chair.

She gazed at his sleeping form, smilingly inwardly at how Malfoy could be so damn perfect yet so broken. He was this enigma she willed herself to solve, but she could not bring herself to lose anything for him.

As she continued her contemplation, she realized it wasn't just Harry, Ron, and Ginny that kept her from exploring Malfoy. It was herself. She was done with Malfoy toying with her emotions. She was done dreaming of his hot body pressed to hers, his searing lips against her lamb-like prey neck. She was done with him calling her a mudblood and inversely making her yearn for his touch. Hermione was done. Done with him.

"Granger?"

The croaked voice came from the man lying before her.

"Are you an angel?"

"No, Malfoy, I'm a figment of your fucking imagination. Why are you at Mungo's? Why did you punch the wall?"

"Granger," his cracked voice interjected, "I'm in physical and emotional pain right now, and your irritatingly sanctimonious mudblood voice is not helping one bit."

"Well too bad."

"Sod off, Granger."

"No, you sod off."

"I'm in a hospital bed."

"You could be in a hospice for all I care."

Then she was silent.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

He inhaled her worrisome and quiet voice. He fed off her vulnerable state. She was the only thing keeping him living; he needed her. Malfoy closed his eyes and cleared his mind.

"I'm fine, Granger. I was just trying to punch this bogart of your filthy mudblood face, okay?"

He saw her flinch and felt her pain.

_Granger, can't you see that you are making me this way? You are this bewildering medley of colors. Did you see that – would Draco Malfoy ever say that? No, you're turning me into a sorry pathetic arse._

"Well then, I'm sorry I came."

She arose with indifference and raised her wand to take down the charm. Then, ironically Draco thought, the lights went out. St. Mungo's was now pitch black.

"What the hell?"

"Watch your tone, Granger. Also, what is hell?"

"Watch your horridly pale excuse for a face. Where's the light switch?"

"Lumos, Granger. You _do_ own a wand don't you? Or are you, rightly might I add, a muggle now?"

"Shut it, Malfoy."

When Hermione's wand did not illuminate, she glowered at Malfoy.

"My magic doesn't work in here."

"Fantastic observation, Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor!"

She threw up her arms, infuriated.

"It's all your fault I'm here in the first place, Malfoy. If you hadn't punched the fucking wall…"

"Calm down, Granger. Really, you just overreact sometimes."

Hermione shot him a look of malice. She heard the sheets rustle as he moved, and she sat back down in the seat across from him.

"You're such a bloody hypocritical idiotic sadistic-"

"Granger, is that know-it-all brain of yours running out of adjectives?"

Hermione clenched her fists.

"You mean running out of adjectives that poor Malfoy understands?"

She smiled at the note of clear annoyance in his tone.

"And you, Granger, are the bane of my existence."

"Always jumping to insult me, aren't you?"

"Only because it pleases me. You're an easy target – not in the sense that you're subservient but because of your sharp tongue and wit."

_Could that have been a compliment?_

"I know what you're doing, Granger, and don't flatter yourself. You won't be getting anymore of my niceties when I'm done with Mungo's."

"Because I'm so chary of you, Malfoy," Hermione retorted sweetly.

"Your sarcasm is unbecoming, Granger."

"As is your complexion."

He scoffed and the sheets sounded again as he turned to face her.

"Always up for a battle of the wits, I see?"

"Only if my opponent's intellect is weaker by ten-fold."

"Frightened that you'll be outwitted by, what was that again, a bloody hypocritical idiotic sadistic prick?"

"If you recall I never said prick, Malfoy, you supplied that one. I was thinking more along the lines of bigot or cretin..."

"Low blow, dear Granger."

She laughed quietly, and for a moment, she thought she could see the twinkle in his brooding grey eyes. He stirred again and Hermione looked at him from under her lashes. She felt a yearning feeling in the pit of her stomach and called his name lowly and impulsively.

"Draco…"

She immediately drew her hand to her mouth as Malfoy moaned softly. He arose from the bed and Hermione responded by launching to her feet and backing silently against the door. He moved languidly towards her, enclosing his smooth hand around her drawn wand. He brushed his slender fingers against her warm skin and felt her tremble under his soft and almost nonexistent touches. He made a deep guttural sound as her body pressed back against his own.

He was in pain, not from the impact of the blow, but from her sheer closeness. He could hear her shallow breathing, and it was all he needed to lean towards Hermione with audacity, his hot breath against her neck.

He cupped her chin and in the dark, Hermione thought she could see his soul-filled eyes. For the first time, she was seeing him without his facade; there he was, emotionally naked and begging her to forget everything and just kiss him.

"Or we can enjoy our time in here, mudblood."

And then it was as if Hermione lost all thought and inhibitions as his lips collapsed against hers for the first time.

* * *

*runs and hides*

I know exactly what you're thinking but don't be mad. All will be revealed in the next chapter which, might I add, is already under way. And of course my lucky beta will have the glorified position of reading it before its submission.

**REVIEW** because I'm a sadistic young girl who feeds off my reviewers obsequious flattery. JOKES! Critique would be very much appreciated. Much love.


	9. Our Days Unnumbered

Almost 9,000 hits and lovely reviews. Thanks to all, and I mean it. I was having a shitty week and your kind reviews helped me get through it.

I dedicate this next chapter to the loyal readers and reviewers; you all mean a lot to me.

* * *

He nipped at her lips and pulled away quickly, wanting to see Hermione's face: her chocolate fear-filled eyes, the curve of her nose, cheekbones, and full pink lips in the dusky light before he kissed her. His grey eyes tantalized her skin, and she whimpered in his beauty. Hermione didn't dare close her eyes- she just stared at the man before her, unable to tear her gaze off him. She could see that his sharp grey orbs were now dark and lustfully glazed, and she licked her lips instinctively.

Hermione's finger lingered on his jaw, holding his eyes as her thumb came to his bottom lip. She saw the apprehension and arousal in his eyes. She was shocked at how soft his lips were, how gentle they felt beneath her fingers. He inched closer towards her so that her entire body pressed against the door with a soft thud. He slid his knee between her legs and her breathing became haggard as his lips descended upon her neck.

She moaned intuitively and clutched his shirt, pulling him into a closer and intimate stance. As his lips journeyed up her neck and towards her jaw, Draco hooked his arm around her waist and brought her hips towards his. A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine as he pulled away again to wink at her playfully before capturing her lips. Their bodies moved rhythmically, his lips moving teasingly and skillfully, caressing her own.

She gave a sigh as her lips parted and granted him entrance to the cavern that was her mouth. He moaned against her lips and the kiss became more fervent. Hermione's hands were in his hair, pulling him deeper into her mouth, closer towards her body. She tilted her neck as his tongue lulled over her bottom lip. She quivered again before kissing him back thoroughly.

He responded to her show of newfound boldness by resting his freehand on the bare skin of her upper thigh. Her breath hitched. She tasted him for the first time; he smelt of sage, almonds, and musk. He felt like fear and unadulterated glory. She let out a deep sigh and his tongue became more demanding.

Under the intensity of it all, under this first taste of forbidden fruit, Hermione was losing herself. She was lost in his gentle but fiery and deliberate touches; she was lost in his impulsive yearning kisses. And he reveled in every sensation – she was like living a dream, a phantasmagoria of lights and whirling emotions.

He gripped her tighter so that his knees would not give way as she bit his lip erotically; a searing kiss was his sick sort of punishment for her domineering ways. His hands traced her sides and her hips grinded against his. One hand rested at the curve of waist as he reached up under her mousse brown hair to kiss her milky white shoulder.

At this her chocolate eyes came to life.

"Draco."

Her voice was soft and her knees buckled again as he reached to caress her cheek. He gave a low guttural sound to indicate his attention. She pushed against him gently as to release from his embrace.

"What are we doing?"

He chuckled at her self-evident question, his grey eyes almost black with arousal.

"If you have something to say Granger, feel free to share."

He pressed his lips against her own and she melted into him again. Her trademark curls were awry and Draco felt uneasy looking at her blushing form. With her clothing askew she was so beautiful and scared; it felt surreal to feel so broken in her arms.

He pressed further against her, caught up in his fantasy and desire to be underneath her skin. He wanted all of her; he wanted to be inside of her. She was his only, and this simple edict the mudblood needed to know. As if reading his thoughts, her eyes opened again urgently and Hermione squirmed until she was kicking beneath him.

"Stop it, Malfoy!"

She pushed him and he staggered away from her, wiping his lip with his hand. Had she rejected him? His eyes flashed with emotion and he snarled before sating into his arrogant self.

"Got a problem Granger?" he responded angrily.

To her crossed arms and disheveled demeanor, a smirk crept up his features.

_Mudblood, you have been ravished by the Slytherin Prince himself._

"I mean it Malfoy, what are we doing? We can't just be snogging each other like this – it's unprofessional."

"Oh, drop the 'holier-than-thou' attitude. Can't "Virginal Mudblood Granger" admit she enjoy pashing the enemy?"

"I didn't enjoy anything! You shoved me up against a wall!"

"Don't blame me for pointing out the fact you're a natural submissive, Granger."

"Natural submissive, my arse," she muttered, throwing a spiteful glare in his direction, "This is never happening again. It was an accident, right Malfoy? I knew all that pent up hatred against each other couldn't be healthy."

He scoffed at her disbelievingly.

"You truly think that was an act of hatred? Of all things, Granger! You're smart, don't choose this moment to exhibit naïveté."

"You know they say, there's a thin line between love and hate."

"Well whoever said that was _obviously_ a mudblood."

She gaped at him and at his stoic expression, shook her head.

"You're always ruining everything, Malfoy. There we were, actually having a decent adult conversation–"

"Clearly your hermit and introverted ways have taken toll because that is _not_ what I call–"

"A decent conversation? See I have a feeling you don't mean that, or at least that's what I gathered from all your moaning and-"

He cut her off, yet there was a tart and tight smile pursing her lips.

"If you want to live, Granger, you _won't_ finish that sentence."

She leveled her stare on his; there was a look of challenge in her eye.

"Try me."

He sneered.

"Already did, and decided there really wasn't anything worthwhile."

Her eyes widened in disbelief and hurt.

"Don't give me that, Granger. I know you're chaste and unsullied, but I didn't know you were a virgin kisser too – so I apologize for deflowering you."

"You horrible vile disgusting-"

"Again with the adjectives. I'm starting to think you leisurely read the dictionary just to find words to describe me. Hmm?"

"Go fuck yourself," she spat, vitriolic acid burning up her throat.

"Oh won't you do it for me? You know, since you're so… willing?"

Falling, falling, falling. Hermione was numb, null of emotion and suffering. The vindictiveness of his words transcended any passion within her. Draco was taken aback for a moment. Never had he seen someone so bereft, so abjectly visible in their regret.

"Are we really back at Hogwarts, Malfoy? Back to you calling me a mudblood in extremely uncreative ways and me making light of your flagrant disregard of the feelings of others?"

Her burning voice went on deaf ears as he turned away from her, his face falling in his hands. It was pathetic really; his inability to stand so close to her, his drug, his addiction, and want so much. The pain was agony to his already broken soul. She sighed at his pitiful demeanor, cursing inwardly for letting herself kiss him.

"You can't even control yourself because just for a moment I questioned you. Because just for a moment I wanted to ask why Malfoy the Bigot wanted me, a mudblood."

She swallowed, eyes stinging as she continued.

"Of course you chose then to snarl back and insult me."

His eyes were hard as she clapped, bowing slightly.

"Bravo, Draco, bravo. I bet your parents are proud, raising a son with such morals. Is that what you do then? Shag them and leave them, no questions asked?"

Her tone was mocking.

"You don't know what the Merlin you're talking about, Granger."

She raised her eyebrows theatrically and brought her hands to her hips.

"No? I guess I don't. And I guess you'll never find out."

Her words bit at Malfoy, a hollow feeling settling in the base of his stomach. He couldn't help his reaction; he had allowed Hermione to see a part of him, a part he never showed anyone – and that self-righteous minger handed it right back to him on a silver fucking platter. He clenched his fists and turned away from her, grabbing his hair roughly in a show of mental waywardness.

He stumbled towards the bed; all he could see were images of her. Falling. Falling. He groaned again as he envisioned her pink lips opening to his every beck and call.

"Malfoy? Are you alright?"

His head snapped in Granger's direction at her anxious words. His grey eyes were calamitous.

"Get the fuck away from me, Granger. The door is behind you."

He turned away from her again and trembled. He told himself to count, do anything but crawl back to her and beg Hermione just to feel. He beat against his chest and he heard her sharp intake.

"Didn't I tell you to leave, Granger?"

Her voice was soft now. His jaw twitched – a restrained flinch.

"Draco…"

"Get. Out!"

"You sad, sad man."

And with the solemn finality of those clipped last words, she took down the wards and left Draco perched atop the bed. As the door closed, he looked back, white blonde hair falling into his dark eyes. He was so tortured, and he knew it. Through all the hatred and excruciating pain, he could feel it pulsating through his veins. He couldn't stand to see her walk through that door. He was a Malfoy – he should be the one telling her whether she could leave his presence!

_Calm yourself, Malfoy._

He closed his eyes and fisted the bed sheets, containing his anger. Sometimes he hated this innate sense of insularity, as though everything inside him was slowly tipping closer to the edge. He was the bottle of a storm, a tumult that if someone dared open would annihilate and destroy.

He thought for a moment of Hermione. He certainly recognized the hopelessness of it all, and even she questioned the shadow of doubt that surrounded the sincerity of their hatred; was it possible then? Could that lingering and burning feeling actually give rise to something other than detestation?

He laughed crudely; there was no way. Here he was, plagued incessantly by his muse while she tortured his leaden-hued heart. His expression was one of hesitance and indecision. Draco pursed his lips and thought for a moment. In their many years of acquaintanceship, they'd exchanged not a single pleasantry, not a single smile. They brought out the worst in each other, and that animosity had satisfied them both for as long as he could remember.

Yet for some reason, they no longer satisfied Draco Malfoy. He'd permitted Hermione a glimpse of the humanity that was cloaked in insincerity and lost in shadows; he was flawed, but that didn't mean no one could love him.

* * *

"Hermione, are you sure you're alright?"

Hermione nodded her head for the umpteenth time, shrugging as her gaze remained over Malachi, Nikhil, and Matthew. Malachi was chatting quietly on his phone with Jackie Weng, intermittently glancing at Hermione and whispering lowly to not wake a sleeping Nikhil. Matthew feigned indifference and stared off but Hermione knew he was watching steadily her interaction with Theo. Despite her transgression, Nott informed an absent-minded Hermione of Adrian and Demetri's departure.

"I wanted to stay until you left," he ran a hand through his black curls and centered his gaze on her bruised lips.

_Bruised lips?_

"He didn't stun you, did he?"

She laughed at this and clutched his lower arm.

"I assure you, Theo, nothing happened - well nothing out of the ordinary. I know I was in there for a while, but it mostly comprised of me pitying Malfoy, his awakening, and my prompt dismissal from the room."

He softened at this and smiled, tucking a piece of her wild gossamer curls behind her ear.

"Good."

She warmed at his gesture and followed as he led her out of the corridor. She cringed internally, forgetting whether she had fixed her clothing before leaving Malfoy's presence. She hopped neither Castillo, Clayton, or Blooming could piece together pink-tinted cheeks, strewn hair, and a wrongly buttoned blouse.

"I think it's nice that all the boys visit Malfoy. Do you take turns waiting on him or what?"

"Jackie and Blaise are at the office as Draco's substitutes and the rest of us are here for support. I guess we're a band of brothers in that way. I love them all."

He squeezed her hand. They reached the Floo momentarily, and he tugged her towards him. Hermione turned to meet Theo's downcast eyes.

"I want to apologize for what happened on our date. I don't know, I-"

"Its fine, I promise. Theo, I know you're a great guy and you'd never do something like that in your right mind."

He smiled at her again, this time taking her hand and raising it to his lips.

"Then you'll come out with me again, Hermione? Another date, perhaps?"

As his soft lips brushed against her knuckles, she felt traitorous. There were over a thousand things wrong with this picture, namely the fact her heart was screaming no. Hermione forced a smile and hated herself for it. She liked Theo, she really did, but it just didn't feel right.

She felt torn in this rude awakening; she didn't need another reminder of her rash decisions and mistakes. It was this belated rush of emotions she hadn't relayed to Malfoy, and she wanted to, to tell him everything. She wanted to scream why, why me? She wanted to beat against his pale ethereal skin and trail her fingers down his chest. She yearned to whisper sweet nothings into his hair and fall asleep in his strong arms.

She wanted to argue with him and see just how far she could push him until he hugged and kissed away her fears. Most importantly, she just wanted to feel him. His hot skin beneath her trembling fingers, his impassioned touch.

She closed her welling eyes and let one single tear fall. It was a tear that needed to be shed, a tear so she could forget her feelings. She wanted to forget that kiss, a kiss that brought a soaring feeling to her soul and bile in her throat. He was a cognitive dissonance that she both abhorred and cherished.

"You're crying, Hermione."

She laughed with spite and wiped away the tears threatening to overflow, threatening to give it all away. No, she would bottle it up. She would hide her emotion for she was the logical pragmatic one. Someone needed to make a rational decision and since Malfoy didn't appear to be making any sane judgments whatsoever, she needed to take control.

"Hermione?"

She closed her eyes and leaned in to kiss Theo. His lips were immovable from the spontaneity of it all, but it wasn't long until he kissed her back. It was a soft but meaningful kiss, and unbeknownst to him, it meant everything to her. She needed Theo in this moment, to hold her and tell her that everything was just perfect.

Hermione was breaking, and she wanted to be saved.

* * *

"It's time."

Rodolphus revealed a toothless smile as he looked up at Rabastan, eyes narrowing with grimy glee.

"Lucius' release is today, then?"

An ensconced Rodolphus scratched viciously at his calf until blood began to trickle. He took his long senescent index finger to the blood and drew it to his lips, moaning at the cathartic effect of pure blood. Rabastan leaned toward his seated brother with a sneer of vengeance and lunacy upon his old chapped lips.

"And only a few more weeks until our plan goes into effect."

Rabastan grinned repulsively at Rodolphus' statement, this time his eyes wide with mad hilarity.

"And how's our dear Narcissa?"

"Mungo's is treating her well, I hear."

A cackle erupted from Rabastan's throat as he moved away from his convulsing brother. Each step was taken with labor, as though every movement was burdened by secrets. He wrapped his arms around his scrawny shoulders and shifted from foot to foot. He rolled back his eyes until only the yellow whites were visible in his sunken sockets.

"All for you, my Dark Lord."

It was as though the room chilled at these taboo words. Rodolphus and Rabastan exchanged a look of pure pleasure and excitement, scrambling towards the rotting wooden desk.

"When, dear brother, shall we capture that blood traitor Narcissa and that mudblood?"

Rabastan took his brothers' dirty hands and held them tightly. Uniformly, the two men looked to the ceiling and felt the dark magic permeate around them. Rabastan's voice was whisper.

"Soon, Rodolphus. Patience, brother, and the Wizarding world shall return to the way he would have wanted."

Rabastan's eyes glinted with beastly thoughts and a dark foreboding hope.

* * *

Blaise rested his chin on his suit-clad knees. Of all the places he wanted to be right now, Azkaban was not of them, yet by some wry and beguiling twist of fate he was in the one place he dreaded more than his father's library and Dumbledore's office.

And Zabini was not a coward.

So what if he "stayed" with his mother in Italy during the Great War - he still suffered psychologically as much anyone. So what if he preferred to opt out and save his own hide? The last thing he needed was their positive reassurance; that's what he loathed most: pity and cowardice.

He remembered just how much he hated Pucey the second Adrian followed him into Malfoy's office. After Blaise helped restore the Zabini family name and stayed with his mother during her final years of life, his return to the Wizarding World was not one welcomed by his former classmates. The minute Zabini stepped into Malfoy's office, Pucey had spat on his dark tanned face, calling Blaise an erasable mar on the Slytherin name for hiding during the war.

To Blaise's protests Adrian merely looked down his nose as if in the presence of a weakling and mudblood. That insult burned Blaise to his core, and he challenged Adrian to a duel right then and there. It had been Malfoy's calm words, as well as the threat of a quick dismissal from his company that forced Zabini and Pucey to begrudgingly pocket their wands.

In all honesty, Blaise had missed Azkaban by a hair. The Wizengamot brought him into custody and interrogated him, telling Blaise that without his cooperation he would find himself trapped into a life sentence behind Azkaban bars. In fear, Blaise told them everything he knew, which was everything and nothing.

Sitting beside Malfoy, he ran his fingers through his fine brown hair. He found that when Malfoy came to him and requested his companionship to Azkaban, he had agreed without a moment of hesitation. It was a testament to Blaise's brotherly love for Malfoy. When Zabini returned to England a few years after the war's end, he discovered there was nowhere he was welcome. He rested at the Three Broomsticks for a while – drinking Firewhiskey and drowning in the sorrow of it all.

There was nowhere he could go. Pansy certainly wouldn't take an old lover into her home; she needed more time to recuperate from the loss of her father. Blaise and Marcus had a falling out before his departure to Italy and Zabini loathed Pucey more than anyone in Slytherin House, what with his conniving and malevolent ways.

Blaise was never close enough to Theo to ask if he could stay at the Nott residence, and as far as he knew, Goyle and Crabbe were dead. Hours later, Zabini found his knuckle's rapping on the silver charmed gates of the Malfoy Manor. When Malfoy saw Blaise, he didn't ask any questions - just set up room and board for his friend.

Blaise found himself perplexed at Malfoy's persona. In those first months staying with Malfoy, Blaise determined that Draco was still the arrogant prat he remembered from Hogwarts, yet there was something so enervating and lifeless about him. His grey eyes were hollow and vacant, there was no swagger in his step. His skin seemed paler than Blaise remembered and there was no denying the dark circles beneath his tortured grey eyes.

It was their friendship that saved the two boys from insular living and wallowing in self-pity. Through all the trials and tribulations, steadfast hatred and disapproval from the Wizarding community, and the rebuilding Malfoy Industries, Blaise and Draco forged a bond greater than friendship: brotherhood. And they were stronger for it everyday.

Blaise turned decidedly to the man seated next to him and sighed.

"They're waiting, Draco."

The blonde man eyed his friend and rolled his neck tiredly. His voice was flat.

"I'm not ready, Blaise."

"I don't care, we're here and your father is about to be released. You should be thanking Harry Potter and not sitting and groveling pensively like Granger."

Draco glared at Blaise, a story unfolding in his grey eyes.

"Ah, Draco, I see you've made some progress with the mudblood."

"Shut it, Zabini."

Blaise wiggled an eyebrow and smirked in his classic Zabini way.

"Your eyes doth tell another story."

"Quoting Muggle literature is not your strong suit."

"And shagging mudbloods is yours?"

"Watch it, Zabini. I won't think twice about hexing your-"

"Duly noted."

They sat in silence for a few more moments and Malfoy cracked his knuckles, thinking. He had waited seven patient years for his father's release, and here he was, standing a few feet away from the gates. In no fewer than ten minutes, Lucius Malfoy would leave Azkaban and reenter Draco's life for good. Draco didn't know whether to feel overjoyed or frightened of his father's return.

Lucius Malfoy was the man who had obsequiously served Voldemort. He was the man who opened the Chamber of Secrets some years ago, and the very same to be sent to Azkaban three times. Yet he was the person that taught Draco how to ride his first broomstick. He was the same man who helped Draco brew potions and taught him skilled dueling. Lucius was the same man who was cold and brutal but loving in his own twisted ways. These simple facts Draco could not deny and as much as he hated Lucius, he was the only thing Draco could call a father.

"Just a few more minutes now."

Draco looked on Blaise.

"Are you ready, Malfoy?"

"Are you, Zabini?" he countered bitterly.

Blaise narrowed his eyes and instead turned to watch Potter. Harry was here as Malfoy's witness and would mediate over Lucius' release. St. Scarhead was pacing back and forth outside the charmed gates and wringing his wrists. He looked about as nervous as Malfoy, and about ready to keel over and purge. Zabini laughed at that mental image and placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. His blonde friend looked over and cracked a small nervous smile.

Harry called them over and with a sigh, Draco got to his feet and languidly made his way over. Blaise was almost surprised at Draco's quick replacement of a fretting expression with a haughty leer of indifference.

_Almost._

"So Potter, our last exchange."

At Draco's ominous words Harry muttered some inaudible expletives and then forced a smile to match Malfoy's sneer.

"It's been a pleasure I assure you, Malfoy. Don't make me regret this."

"I'm quite certain," Malfoy chided with a hint of falsity in his voice.

Blaise stepped between Harry and Draco, forcing the men to hold their ground as three Azkaban prison guards strode towards the gates.

"A Mr. Harry Potter and a Mr. Draco Malfoy?" a short stocky man asked in his thick Cockney accent.

Malfoy sneered at the pedigree.

"Yes, that's-"

"Us," Draco interjected.

The speaking guard itched his neck at the clear hostility between the two.

"Right-o," the guard passed a parchment and quill between the gates, "Signature on the lines."

Draco snatched the quill first and penned his full name with sophisticated and elegant penmanship. He passed the quill to Harry, who much to his mortification scrawled his own name right atop.

Draco scowled as Harry passed the parchment back to the short man. The guard performed a nonverbal for verification and nodded seconds later, motioning for the two other guards to leave his side and retrieve Lucius.

Draco's heart beat faster in his chest; he was closer now, closer to losing it. He closed his eyes and willed the emotions to settle. Slowly, he began to count the moments until his father would be before his eyes.

_One: _He's back Draco, the man who made your childhood living hell.

_Two: _The man who laughed upon your every fault and failure.

_Three:_ A man whose servile allegiance blinded him to the point at which he couldn't get out _even_ when he knew he was in too deep.

_Four:_ He who missed your birthdays rotting away in Azkaban.

_Five:_ The man who selfishly turned a blind eye to the wicked torture that you witnessed at a young age.

_Six: _The man who whipped you and performed the Cruciatus curse because you just scraped a passing in Ancient Runes.

_Seven: _The same person who hid you and mother when the Death Eaters arrived.

_Eight:_ A man who defended you to the Dark Lord and bought you time until your stupid self believed you could kill Dumbledore.

_Nine:_ The person who held you at the end of the war and kissed your mother with ardor, whispering that everything was going to be fine.

_Ten:_ The same man who found humility and at the stand, looked upon you and your mother and begged for forgiveness.

When Draco opened his eyes again, his father stood before him. It was as if looking before a mirror: Lucius hadn't aged by much. His long white hair still reached at his knees and blue eyes shone of a sort of sagacity, remembrance, and change.

He stood proudly in the rich black robes that six years ago Lucius wore at his trial, and it was as if nothing had changed from the moment he had asked Draco to forgive him. Malfoy stopped breathing as his father placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled upon his son; a homecoming of sorts.

Draco traced the wrinkles between Lucius' eyes and lips, realizing in this moment that he was a few inches taller than his father, and that Lucius prided on this. The elder Malfoy's upper lip twitched as he looked Draco up and down scrupulously for a second time. Draco exhaled deeply at this quiet gesture of acceptance and Lucius stepped closer to his son. Draco felt uneasy at the softness in his father's gaze; there was something so changed about the man before him.

Blaise watched the exchange as Lucius touched the cheek of his son and enveloped Draco into a hug. Malfoy's arms lay comatose beside him and he closed his cloudy grey eyes, inhaling the poignancy of this moment.

"I'm here, son. Forever and always."

At this declaration, a single glass tear escaped Malfoy's eye as he roughly returned the embrace. He thought of Hermione, and for the first time, Draco allowed himself to feel vulnerable in his father's arms.

* * *

I so love the emotional depth of Draco.

**Review for more Malfoy!**


	10. Desire My Affection, Deny My Attention

Over 15,000 hits! I am both flattered and ecstatic. Thanks so much for the constructive criticism and paeans of praise I've received over this literary journey.

Best to EllenDraper who induced me to reflect upon my chapter names, and to "wow" who WOWed me with some wake up calls. Thanks to you both and everyone else who reviewed.

I won't even bother with apologizing for updating so late. I've already berated myself enough. I've always been my harshest critic.

Ladies and Gentleman: It's been a pleasure.

A/N: (insert sore attempt at relinquishing all rights to J. K. Rowling here)

* * *

"I'm just not sure our investors want to put their money into a product so… unbelievable."

_I'll show you unbelievable…_

Draco's jaw twitched as he listened to the expected concerns of Peter Thiel, the owner of a prominent investment firm in America. What irritated Draco most of all were the other companies who appeared to be Peter's lackeys. They seemed to flock and agree with Thiel's apprehensions by asking importunate and boorish questions about Malfoy's upcoming product.

"Mr. Malfoy, by no means am I denying the success of your previous products, but there are too many risks-"

"You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Thiel. The fourth prototype was brought to the board last week and worked almost impeccably. Of course we must fix a few bugs and minor details, but our fifth archetype is due two weeks from now with the repairs."

Mr. Thiel rubbed his chin considerately at Draco. He was a former business associate of Lucius, but shirked from the partnership as the man was sent to Azkaban. Now he sat in the boardroom of Lucius' son, looking upon the extempore speech of a calm and composed Draco.

The younger Malfoy was as much of a businessman as his father had been, and showed even more promising qualities. What drew Peter to Draco was his empathy, a trait that Lucius sorely lacked. Peter looked down at his papers and perused its content as Draco implored the investors not to miss this one-time opportunity.

Peter folded his hands in his lap and looked squarely at Malfoy.

"I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy, I just don't think this is the right move for my investors at the moment."

Peter shuffled the portfolio in front of him and turned to speak in hushed tones with the man at his side. Mr. Thiel arose to take departure but was interrupted by the melodious words of a woman sitting a few seats away from Draco.

"Mr. Thiel, I know you're one to invest in the more _dicey_ products on the market."

"And what would you be insinuating there, Miss?"

"You invest in artificial intelligence and anti-aging research," her chocolate eyes flicked up to his own, "What I mean to say, is that you're a man who's not afraid to take a gamble. After all, the bigger the risk the bigger the reward."

She smiled at him.

"Malfoy Industries has proven time and time again that this company is not volatile in any way, nor is it a company to be ignored. We were one of the only companies whose shares never fell during the most recent financial crisis. Furthermore, Malfoy Industries has a net worth over 860 billion galleons. Forgive me if I'm wrong Mr Thiel, but is that not more than eight trillion U.S. dollars?"

Peter's eyes glazed over her final words. Hermione rejoiced internally; she had hit his weak spot: any opportunity to rake in the galleons.

"I believe the facts speak for themselves."

Mr. Thiel quirked his brows, instantly taken with the professional boldness of the attractive and intelligent women before him. She straightened her pinstripe jacket and absently twisted a curl deliciously around her finger.

He was impressed, and interested to know more.

"Alright, Miss Granger, dazzle me."

She didn't even blink at his request. Instead, she stood and addressed Thiel and his constituents.

"You've heard what Mr. Malfoy has to say about the cellular prototype, you've seen the projected returns, and now it is time to take a chance. When Lucius Malfoy approached each of you with the idea of bringing televisions to the Wizarding World you scoffed. You all told him that it could never, and would never take off."

Hermione stopped short as she felt each pair of eyes on her… all but one. She looked over at Malfoy whose troubled gaze lay on the portfolio and bandaged hand before him. She could see the distress on his features, but his stubbornness refused to let him look up. He wouldn't allow her to see the appreciation in his cloudy grey eyes.

She sighed, but carried on with more passion than before.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Lucius asked everyone here to take a risk and that's exactly what you all did. Every investor in this room contributed a combined three hundred million galleons to Malfoy Industries' first endeavor to combine Muggle technology with magic."

Hermione paused for effect.

"Take a look at what this company has accomplished. Our magic televisions were an economic sensation, and thousands of successful products later, Malfoy Industries remains a top achiever and has monopolized the technology market. Your investors have made more money off Malfoy Industries than every other corporation on the New York Stock Exchange."

Now she personally regarded Peter.

"Lucius may not be with us as we speak, and we may be new faces to you, but I for one am passionate and excited about the prospects of this prototype and the direction of Malfoy Industries. This is a fresh and bold idea that will undoubtedly be this corporation's next success and we are asking you to be a part of that. This time, Mr. Thiel, I'm not asking you to take a gamble, I'm asking you to invest in something bigger: this is the future of wizarding technology."

Mr. Thiel looked at Hermione, back down to his portfolio, and then whispered quietly to the two men beside him.

"Would you give us a few minutes, Mr. Malfoy? Miss Granger?"

"Of course." Malfoy coolly replied before Hermione could respond.

Her hand itched to thump Malfoy's composed form that had replaced his earlier worrisome stance.

The Malfoy Industries' associates left and waited outside the conference room with baited breath. Castillo's eyes were furrowed and he conversed heatedly with Abbott, Zabini, and Clayton. Hermione saw Matthew approaching her. Unconventionally wearing dress robes that complimented his raven hair and haunting azure eyes, Matthew regarded Hermione with a pleased grin. He snaked his arm around her and she jumped, surprised at the sudden contact to her waist.

"You, my dear Hermione, are an absolute life saver."

Hermione laughed at Blooming's merriment but told him cautiously that it wasn't over yet. He scoffed and praised her performance again, to which she could not help but blush. To her relief, Jackie moved between them both and threw an arm casually around Matthew and Hermione.

"I've got a fantastic feeling about this. It's just what we need to push the prototype through. Mark my words, by next quarter every witch and wizard will have their very own Malfoy Industries-serviced cell phone."

"How wonderful," Hermione lamented at the thought, "Malfoy will now have access to my private cell phone calls and messages. Blackmail is eminent."

The two men chuckled.

"You're a hoot Granger," Jackie marveled, squeezing her shoulder before he and Matthew joined the others.

"Hermione."

She smiled genuinely at Theodore who had taken her small hand in his own.

"If I so much as hear one word of admiration and thanks from your mouth, I will have no choice but to hex you."

He frowned theatrically and relished Hermione's timid smile.

"Not even one?"

She shook her head stubbornly, eyes bright and rich brown curls swaying. That wench had no idea the things she did to him; even simple quotidian actions made Theo want to snog her senseless.

"You'll just have to let me make it up to you another time then."

"How suggestive," she retorted with a saucy wink and Theo was instantly besotted.

Hermione glanced over at Malfoy's hunched form. He was leaning back, shoulders and back pressed against an Italian sofa, his eyes closed in thought. Draco's anxious expression spoke of his interior contemplations, and Hermione fought the urge to go over and comfort him. She simply could not forgive him for what had happened.

She just felt so puzzled.

It was for the best Hermione thought, leaving her feelings behind and acting like nothing had happened at Mungo's. Draco Malfoy was nothing but a synonym for trouble, confusion, and hurt – three facets she did not need to complicate her life further. Malfoy was a disturbed man with a complex, and his erratic behavior told Hermione she could not trust him. Perhaps it was Hermione's longing to save Malfoy that caused her thoughts to wander to him constantly; she would have to stave off her desires for him if not to save her own sanity.

Hermione walked towards Draco – she could maintain her poise and grace despite his presence that induced an unexplainable temptation to surface within.

Malfoy's eyes flickered open as she reached his side. She attempted a determined look, which probably appeared as some sort of facial contortion.

Malfoy grinned.

"Granger?" he asked, bemused.

Before she could open her mouth and counter his smug expression, one of the investors opened the door and asked for Draco Malfoy.

_Guess I'll take a rain check on wringing your neck until after this meeting._

* * *

Every person returned to his or her seats; anticipation permeated in the air like a thick blanket. Hermione couldn't hold her patience.

She looked to Adrian, who was seated at her left. He met her gaze knowingly and squeezed her hand under the table. In this particular moment, it didn't matter that a git like Pucey was reassuring her; Hermione's urgency to know Thiel's decision transcended any awkwardness she would have otherwise endured from Adrian's touches.

And after what felt like a decade later, Peter cleared his throat.

"Miss Granger, you and Mr. Malfoy are two different people with two very different approaches to business. But…"

She held her breath.

"I can see that you are hardworking professionals, action-orientated, confident, and creative. You both have high standards and a professionalism that exudes leadership and a sincere desire to help not only yourselves, but everyone involved in this process. And I must, of course, address your undeniable ambition, drive, and hunger for success."

_Is it just me, or is it over a hundred degrees in this room?_

"We've deliberated. And frankly, Miss Granger, your zeal has given me the confirmation and faith I needed to reinvest with Mr. Malfoy. We're in."

Zabini, who had taken to clenching his fist in expectation, choked in surprise. He was certain Malfoy Industries had lost Thiel, but Granger had shown business prowess and impressed him and every other person in the room. A second of silence passed and the room burst to life with claps on the shoulder and excited chatter.

Peter reached over the table and shook hands firmly with Hermione.

"Looking forward to working with you, Miss Granger. Keep me updated."

"Pleasure's all mine. We'll be in touch."

"That's what I like to hear."

With a curt nod, Peter was subsequently surrounded by his fellow investors in their loud and exited banter. Each Malfoy Industries' board member shook hands with dozens of new faces, congratulating each other with enthusiastic hugs and words of elation. Even though she wanted to appear humble, Hermione couldn't help but bask surreptitiously in the glory of her executive triumph.

As men and women gradually departed from the room, Theo who remained in the room to help Hermione clean up, quickly discerned the not-so-subtle tension between Malfoy and the brunette witch. She had snarled at Draco the second he smirked in her direction causing Nott to run his hands through his dark curls in mild trepidation.

"Are you and Malfoy having another spat?" he questioned, his tenor voice laced with concern.

Hermione closed the drawer behind her and frowned. She turned to Theo, arms crossed and threw a glance at Malfoy. That white blond _monster_ appeared to be nonchalantly checking his Muggle cell phone, but his smirk gave away his attempts at eavesdropping.

"You say spat as though we're lovers."

She scrunched up her nose with utter distate.

"No, Malfoy and I are not having a tiff. I think he's just upset that Peter took a liking to me rather than his spoiled rich boy demeanor."

To Hermione's delight, Malfoy scoffed indignantly.

"Granger's full of shit, Nott. What she means to say is that our_ creative_ differences have gotten in the way of our team work."

"Keep telling yourself that, Malfoy."

"Alright," he drawled, giving her an unctuous smirk, "Let's rephrase that to cooperation, or perhaps business _relationship_?"

"We don't have a business relationship!" Hermione snapped.

"Merlin, calm down Granger. Your bloody voice will wake up the sleeping Durmstrang students in Norway if you keep that up."

"And your mere presence would give any Beauxbatons witch a migraine."

"You and I both know I'd be giving her much more than a migraine…"

"You disgust me."

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you," Draco quipped, looking down and admiring his freshly cut fingernails.

"Tosser."

"Slag."

"Well children," Theo interjected, sighing at the maturity level of his co-workers, "As cute as this verbal diatribe is, let's give it a rest, eh? I'm absolutely knackered and it's almost four."

"If I didn't know any better," Draco glowered, "I'd say you're asking for a day off, Nott."

"That's exactly what I'm asking for," Theo countered.

Draco's eyes narrowed.

As entertaining as Hermione and Draco's arguments were, sometimes Theo got bored and thoroughly bothered by their childish squabbles. This was one of those days he didn't need want to hear their incessant quarreling.

"If you think you're–"

"Actually Malfoy, Theo makes a point. We're all tired and we need some rest and relaxation in order to commence our aggressive marketing campaign tomorrow."

"No need to get your knickers in a bunch, Granger. I just got out of Mungo's and I don't plan on returning there to visit you after panty surgery."

Hermione huffed.

"I'll ask Gina to send a company-wide email informing everyone of the early day. Happy?"

_Mother of Merlin… did Granger just smile at me?_

Hermione shifted the binders under her arm and Theo proffered a hand to help her. Draco wanted to sock Nott in his manhood at the way he ogled Hermione's cleavage.

_Nott, you bloody wanker. I'm going to… wait…_

"Theo, Granger and I need to talk."

"Alone? Is that really necessary?" she asked with a sigh.

As she absently tossed a curl out of her eye, Draco felt desire scorching at the pit of his stomach. He was disgusted with himself. What was he doing pining after a Mudblood! He wanted to laugh crudely at the absurdity of it all.

"Complaining, Granger?" Draco inquired lazily.

Theo put a hand on her clenched forearm, taking the files out of her grasp. His light touch on her waist was a gesture that pacified Hermione, and she leaned into him and the comfort he was giving. Nott smiled.

"I'll be outside."

As the door clicked behind her, Hermione scowled at the sneer on Malfoy's face. His darkening orbs glinted mischievously, and Hermione was angst-ridden. She slid her hand into her pant pocket and fingered at her wand, just in case.

"And what is it that you want, Malfoy?" she spat.

"Since you're asking so _nicely, _I've always wanted world peace."

Hermione crossed her arms furiously over her breasts causing Draco's eyes to wander down the rest of her body. She colored when she noticed his wandering attention, and his arousal bourgeoned instantly.

"How about something more_ realistic_, Malfoy?"

"I want to talk about desire, Granger."

Hermione felt as if all oxygen left her body as he stepped towards her. She knew she should be panicking, but instead Hermione could almost sense her body perk up as if bewitched.

She froze as a pale hand softly touched her cheek and tossed a curl aside.

"You've been doing that all day you know-"

Hermione was going to asphyxiate if he kept touching her. All she could manage was a subdued squeak in response. How was it that he had the ability to render her so speechless?

"Torturing me."

"I-I did nothing of the sort," she stammered, suddenly finding her voice.

He chortled darkly and traced the skin from her cheek to her jaw, resting finally on her flushed neck.

"Must I keep chasing you?"

His husky voice tickled Hermione's forehead. Draco Malfoy was intoxicating.

"You're killing me softly, Granger," he whispered as his hand found the elastic at her hip.

Thoughtlessly she leaned into him, an unintelligible sound escaping his lips as their bodies met.

"Fuck."

They did not need to kiss; his agile touches sent her to a state of euphoria and pure bliss. He trailed from the base of her stomach to her belly button, and reached the space between her laced bra. As his finger slipped beneath, she seemed to regain control of her body and shoved him away.

"Malfoy! I thought we were done with this. At least that's what I thought when you told me to stay away from you."

"You really think I want you to stay away when my hands are up your shirt?" he thundered.

_Gods, Granger. You're so stubborn all the time._

"You're so vulgar, Malfoy!"

"Bollocks, Granger. I'm stating the obvious!"

"Oh, fuck you. Don't you dare touch me!"

Draco noticed the color that filled her cheeks. She was breathing heavily from yelling at him, her breasts heaving. All he wanted was to pull her back into him, tell her wanted her, and shag her silly. He needed Hermione to just see that this whole _predicament_ pained and confused him as much as it did to her.

"Granger, I can't verbalize this to you, whatever _this _is. And Gods, you may think I'm mental but I don't even understand myself. Do you know what that feels like?"

"Stop playing the abused. I'm sick of you're attention seeking and unpredictable behavior."

"Can't you just shut up and listen for one second?"

"By all means, Malfoy," Hermione bit, "Take the floor and explain exactly what is going on in that thick skull of yours – if anything at all."

All Draco could see was red. Blinding blood ink red.

"You know what Granger? You drive me nuts with your stupid voice, and your fucking need to have your opinions heard. You strut around _my _workplace with a stick up your bum, butting into everyone else's business, and eating our partners' heads with garbage talk of spew–"

"It's S.P.E.W.!"

"There you go again! Correcting everyone like you're Professor McGonagall and it's bloody annoying. You're so self-righteous, that coupled with the fact you believe you're smarter than everyone in the fucking company makes me gag. And you know what, Granger? None of that matters anymore, because that's what I li-"

"Oh yeah? Well you can take all your insults and shove them right up–"

His deep voice interrupted her.

"Granger just listen!"

"YOU CRETIN! YOU VILE HORRIBLE PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A MAN! YOU SAY YOU DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE YOUR FATHER, WELL WAKE UP MALFOY - YOU'RE JUST LIKE LUCIUS IN EVERY FUCKING WAY!"

"I'm warning you, Granger. You know nothing of my father."

He sounded chilling, like death.

"You're a hypocritical chauvinistic bigot. You're a downright git and you always will be. People like you don't change, Malfoy."

His pale nose flared, his mouth twitching to abuse her in every horrible fantastical way he could imagine.

"You, will always be a foul pathetic mudblood who should know when to shut her fucking mouth."

With those final words, he stormed from the room and elbowed passed Theo, who called out his name. Tears welled up in the corner of her eye and threatened to give way. She couldn't breathe.

They are chemical. Hermione knew in that moment that the truth of their pasts and their very nature spelled out the fact that they were wrong for each other.

_Passion, yearning, need, desire._

_Fuck it all._

Hermione bolted from the room, but Theo latched onto her wrist and pulled her into an embrace.

"Hermione! Are you alright?" he asked, the concern evident in his voice.

As he smoothed her hair, she wiped the tears from her eyes and pressed into him.

She felt so conflicted, part of her wanted to retaliate and scream at Draco about all the ways she hated him and his character. They always fought as though it was coded into their blood. Together they are the loud screams and piercing cries, slamming doors and smashing plates. Clenched jaws and empty threats.

She sighed, empty. Hermione could no longer do this; it wasn't healthy for either of them. What she needed was something new, something to get her mind off Draco. Hermione had already promised herself to discard any feelings for him. And here was her escape: a man with his arms currently wrapped around her.

"Are you sure everything is fine?"

She withdrew from his hold and thought for a moment. The corners of Hermione's lip curled, her brown eyes bright.

"Still interested in going on a date, Theo?"

* * *

**Look forward to**: Hermione's date with Theo at the Burrow, a visit to Mungo's (again?), and someone else makes a late debut to the story!

(insert bribery for reviews here) I miss writing this and reading your reviews ):


	11. Imaginations and Palindromes

"Draco?"

"Father?"

"Where's the portrait of Abraxas?"

"Threw him in the cellar."

Lucius tried to suppress a grin as he strode alongside his son. Draco noticed and was delighted immediately. Then he frowned.

_My father's homecoming is turning me into a sap…_

He continued, a tad disgruntled at the idea of being a sissy boy,

"He was shrieking too much, spluttering some nonsense about the Dark Lord and my ears were practically bleeding. Needed to shut him up somehow."

They continued to walk down the hallway. Lucius was pleased when he realized Draco and the house elves had cleaned up the Manor; it had become Draco's mission after the war to restore the mansion's interior to the days of his father's youth; pristine, elegant, and void of all remnants and reminders of the Malfoys darkest days.

After Winky and Draco gave him a tour of the newly refurbished home some evenings ago, Lucius retired early to the bedroom he shared with Narcissa. To Draco's relief, his father had not asked where his wife was, but instead requested some strong Arabic tea with a dash of Draught of the Living Dead.

Three days ago Draco had rubbed his eyes when Lucius entered the dining hall; after all, he had been eating alone for years. The walls began to cave in and the breakfast china appeared to tremor as his father walked achingly slow down the length of the table – and it was a bloody long table, they were Malfoys after all! – and seated himself next to his son. Despite Lucius' new wrinkles and fading scars, his father seemed… reborn.

Lucius felt young again. There was a spring in his step, a shameless twinkle in his cobalt eyes.

Of course there were times when Lucius was hardly recognizable, shrouded in dark memories and horrifying nightmares. Draco would sit with his father occasionally. He would never touch Lucius, but his presence seemed to appease his father's trembling form. At least his frightened illogical ramblings would end too.

As Draco faced his demons, Lucius did too. He had forgiven his father a long time ago for inadvertently destroying his childhood, and Lucius was making up for it each day by simply coexisting.

Just yesterday Lucius picked up a broomstick and challenged his son to a game of one-on-one quidditch.

"_You know, I was an excellent Seeker back in the day."_

"_You're not the same man you were when you attended Hogwarts, Father. In fact, I haven't seen you use a broomstick in years."_

"_Don't you get smart with me, boy."_

"_You played centuries ago. Or was it millenniums ago…"_

_Lucius' eyes narrowed._

"_At least I __**beat**__ Gryffindor."_

_Silence._

"_You're on."_

_Smirk._

A smile formed on Draco's lips at the memory. When his father had unexpectedly thrown a broom at him – and thank Merlin for Seeker reflexes - Draco thought he had woken up in his third year. Needless to say he beat his father in the impromptu game, but it was the laughter and honest fatherly attention that counted.

"Are you ever haunted by it all, son?"

Draco sucked in harshly. He certainly hadn't expected his father to ask such a question. It seemed all too sudden.

"I was. I still am, but it isn't nearly as bad anymore. Every time I dream about the war, I just wake up hating Him… and hating myself. There are times the nightmares are so intense and real that I wish I could turn my wand on myself and end the suffering with an Av–"

Draco shook himself. Had he honestly told that to his Father?

"But then the stillness reminds me that he's gone. That the war is over. Th- that I did the right thing in the end by helping them."

"We're all healing, Draco."

His father moved his hand to Draco's back, rubbing in a jerking motion; he was somewhat new to this whole affection thing. Draco wanted to laugh, but his father's genuine concern was, in a way, uplifting.

"We were lucky," Lucius continued, adjusting his expensive robe, "I could've been in Azkaban for the rest of my life if it weren't for that Potter boy."

Lucius spat those last words. Sure, he was indebted to the Boy-Who-Lived but by no means was Lucius now his _friend_. The inane idea of it even sounded acerbic on his tongue.

"I'm going to take a stab in the dark and guess he's an Auror? What? You didn't think I could guess correctly? Son, Potter's the most predictable man I've ever met."

Draco crossed his arms at Lucius and leaned back, rolling on the balls of his heels with a smirk.

"Yes son, the Dark Lord is dead and with him my hatred for mud-Muggleborns. He was a raving mad lunatic who wanted power more than anything. And in my hunger for it, I almost lost myself too. My views did not die in one day, but I have come to see the absurdity of his preaching, now that I've paid my dues, served my time."

He took Draco's face between his calloused hands. From his youth, Draco remembered how smooth his father's palms had been, like paper, soft like goose down. Days of dueling, wear, and tear were stark evident.

Draco shivered from the touch.

"I did everything I could for you and your mother. You may not realize Draco, but I care for my family more than anything the Dark Lord could ever offer me. We are Malfoys."

Lucius drew a long elegant ringed finger from his son's cheek to chin; Draco gulped as their eyes locked. Lucius tilted his head, resting his hands on Draco's shoulders. He smiled and announced with steely resolve,

"I'm repenting my sins, atoning my mistakes everyday. Our blood, Draco, is thicker than water."

* * *

"I thought you were going to marry that Parkinson girl."

Draco choked and looked up at his father with watery eyes.

"We separated, and frankly, I couldn't be happier. She was a thorn in my side."

"Hmm," Lucius appeared to be deep in thought as he ran his fingers through long silvery hair, "She was always too stupid and bothersome to be a Malfoy wife anyway. Never did like her."

Draco smothered his guffaw and absently flicked a page of his book.

They sat in Narcissa's drawing room, surrounded by some books Sperry had procured from the elder Malfoy's library. The sun's rays spilt through the trellised French windows and bathed the room in light. It was actually Lucius' idea to spend the warm day in his wife's haven, muttering something about Draco always having a book or a broom in his hand when he was younger.

"So, have you another betrothed?"

Draco closed the volume in his lap and rolled his eyes.

"I'm too busy with work but sure, I've dated a little here and there."

"Too busy for the throes of passion?"

Draco choked again. Was he hearing his father correctly?

"What?" he spluttered.

"Shagging?"

"It's none of your bloody business old man!"

"You must be referring to that old kook Dumbledore."

Lucius clucked his tongue and smirked at the discomfort on his son's face. Draco was obviously avoiding the subject.

"And how is my business anyway?"

"Didn't you read the expense reports I left in your library?"

"Of course I did. But I am most curious to hear what _you _think of Malfoy Industries and the direction _you _are heading the company in."

"Hmm, we've continued operations in insurance, antiquities, banking, investment, and real estate. Research and development is our busiest department as we've recently acquired a large chunk of the magic electronics industry."

Draco hesitated; he wondered what his father was thinking.

"We've had to, erm, purge and liquidate some of your more lucrative investments, but the company's been completely clean since. In fact, the corporation's working on our fifth prototype for magicked cell phones – and if all goes to plan, our product will be on the market by next quarter."

The ends of Lucius' lips curled into a deceptively casual smile.

"It would appear the company is doing quite well in your hands, Draco."

He averted Lucius' overpowering gaze and opened the book he was pretending to read. When he heard his father's snigger, Draco flipped to the cover: "101 Ways to Charm a Wealthy Witch".

Oh. He hadn't noticed…

"It would seem you've hurt your hand."

"Lucius Malfoy and the power of perception," Draco joshed, "Honestly Father, you should consider writing a book…"

"Sass me one more time boy and you'll find your body thrashing in the Whomping Willow."

Draco chuckled and lifted his right arm, inspecting the yellowing bandages around his hand and wrist. He had almost begun to forget insufferable know-it-all Granger.

"I got into a brawl with Blaise over which of us could throw the hardest punch. As you can see, I won."

The lie rolled off his tongue so naturally Draco almost believed himself.

"You didn't get into a fist fight with my library wall, then?"

He scowled darkly at the flicker of mild interest on his father's face. Draco remained silent.

"It must have done something quite terrible to upset you so."

"I thought you got rid of your sadistic sense of humor, Father."

"Well, Draco, you thought wrong," the elder Malfoy mused, rubbing his finger deliberately against the peacock speckled stone on his gold wedding band.

Then, the room was still.

Silence always unnerved Draco. To others it symbolized peace, serenity; to him, it empirically meant someone was plotting, thinking. During the Second War's bleakest hours, the Dark Lord established himself within the walls of the Malfoy Manor.

_His_ home.

It had meant the disgraced Malfoys were back in favor; Voldemort's new headquarters had a clandestine significance that Lucius prided upon.

He dreamed about it sometimes. Nightmares. They came and went like fleeting ghosts, haunting memories. They were often hazy, every sound subdued by the all-consuming reverberations of his own blinking and the heavy drumming of his heart. In those hallucinations he stumbled through the Manor, unable to make out one silhouette, one obscured image from the next.

The dreams were always slow and painful as though Nagini was ever so sluggishly slithering up his body. The dreams of torture were the most vivid. Blinding lights and shrill voices, a mirage of Aunt Bella's cackles and the piercing shrieks of victims. Draco tried to remember their horror-stricken faces, but they all blurred together in the mist of his deliriums.

But the silence always terrified him most. It meant that somewhere, the Dark Lord sat with his men, his obsequious followers scheming, fantasizing about the havoc they would wreak the next day. Draco remembered sitting cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom, the only place he could find solitude, rocking back and forth on the dust covered floor. Every black silk curtain was drawn. Every creak and scrape ceased to exist. It was as if the world around Draco was frozen, suspended in time.

In these stolen moments, he would hang his head in some disturbed sort of prayer. He would close his eyes, and will himself to forget the aching in his black soul.

But then a wand light would glint somewhere, or a plate would smash, or someone's throaty laughter would resound down the shadowy hallway to wake Draco from his short-lived escape.

And the world would come crashing down on his shoulders and he would remember that in the silence, it meant that _He_ was thinking, discerning ways to ruin and decimate any shred of happiness left in the world.

That scared Draco more than anything else.

He turned back to his father who was staring out the window into the wispy ashen clouds, pale blue eyes glazed in reflection. Draco wondered what his father was thinking now.

He closed his eyes.

"When will I see her, Draco?"

His father's voice was but a whisper, the question almost cautionary as if the elder Malfoy was terrified and anxious to know what would come next.

"Soon, Father."

Lucius' body eased, and he seemed to sigh in relief. Draco opened his eyes and visibly relaxed as a trademark smirk resurfaced on his father's lips.

"Soon," Lucius echoed.

* * *

The scrumptious aroma of Mrs. Weasley's blueberry pies wafted from the kitchen through the house and to the deck, where Hermione and Theo sat side by side, snickering at one of George's inappropriate jokes.

When Hermione had announced to the Weasleys at brunch last week that Theo was coming for dinner on Saturday, Ron had thrown a fit.

"So, w_as Malfoy not good enough for you?"_

"_Hermione's dating that prick?"_

"_Who, Malfoy? It can't be!" _

"_I'm not da-"_

"_Since when?" _

"_Secretly for months!"_

"_Shut up, Geo-"_

"_Bollocks."_

"_Who's Malfoy, Mommy?"_

"_A boy we hated at school, Rosie dear. Now finish your broccoli like a good girl."_

"_I can't believe it. Why, Hermione, you sly wench."_

"_Always knew she went for the disturbed mysterious stranger complex."_

"_Sacr__é__dieu!"_

"_Fleur, I'm not, honest! Ron's kidding or confused or delusional or something. Audrey, he's hardly a __**stranger**__, and Angelina you know I would never ever __date that pale bouncing fer-"_

"_I'm saddened Hermione dear that you couldn't tell us sooner. How about inviting that nice boy over for dinner?"_

"_He's not a nice boy, mom! He's DRACO EFFING MALFOY. He was __**only **__a Death Eater and made our lives hell for a decade!"_

"_Watch your language at the dinner table, Ron Bilius Weasley! There are children around."_

"_Cause Potter just keeps 'em coming, eh?"_

"_GEORGE!"_

"_Dad, tell George to shut his mouth, or I'll–"_

"_Or you'll what, Gin Gin?"_

"_Don't use that tone on your sister!"_

"_Don't say that to Mommy, Uncle George!"_

_Hermione slammed her head on the table repeatedly, letting the debacle continue. It was minutes until Harry realized her silence._

"_Hey," he asked shyly between Ron and Ginny's bickering, nudging her in the side, "Ron's giving you a hard time, and I apologize on his behalf."_

"_He __**always **__acts this way whenever I want to bring home a date. First Goldstein, then Terry, Seamus, and now Theo!"_

"_He just cares about you 'Mione. He doesn't want to see you get hurt."_

"_Or, he's jealous."_

_Harry took her hand, rubbing light concentric circles on her knuckles. _

"_Maybe a little."_

_Then Harry's nose scrunched up and he looked at her curiously, green eyes inquisitive._

"_But what's all this about Malfoy?"_

_She shrugged._

"_Malfoy showed up at my apartment and begged me to return to his company. Being ever the sniveling gentleman we know him to be, he made a few double entendres and riled up Ron."_

"_Ah, I see. Don't worry about it. Tell Theo that we'd love to have him for dinner, right Gin-"_

"_Hermione's been dating Theo for weeks!"_

"WHAT! _And why didn't I know?"_

"_You didn't know, Ron," Hermione exclaimed pointedly, "Because I knew you would act this obtuse!"_

"_Hrmph."_

And that had been the end of it.

Hermione had invited Parvati so that Ron would stop his relentlessly owling her co-worker, but perhaps harassing was a more apt description. And because she was a bleeding heart, Hannah and Seamus too. She expected a ridiculously awkward dynamic.

After all, she was just throwing an Indian temptress, airhead, and a good-natured but bothersome Irish man at the Weasleys. Oh, and not to mention a not-incarcerated-but-possible-former-Death-Eater. What could possibly go wrong?

Theo had surprised Hermione by taking to her surrogate family, the Weasleys, like a fish to water. He conversed effortlessly with Percy, Bill, and Arthur about the Ministry and possible improvements, and then jumped into an argument between Ron, Seamus, Harry, and George about a recent match between Puddlemere United and the Caerphilly Catapults. She very nearly fainted when Theo talked to Fleur and Ginny about possible baby names. And she almost had a seizure when Nott asked Parvati, Audrey, and Angelina their opinions on the new Marc Jacobs' dress robes sold in Diagon Alley.

Even the kids clung to his arms and legs as soon as he agreed to play hide and go seek. Hannah politely tittered when he commented on her new hairstyle and Molly too gave him the seal of approval when she asked if he'd be the first to taste her delicious chicken strudel. If Theo kept this up, he'd be indoctrinated a Weasley by the end of the night.

"Hermione, should I go get you a slice?" Theo purred, resting his hand on her knee.

"Yes, thanks."

He winked and sauntered after Seamus and George to the kitchen to help Mrs. Weasley bring her pies outside. Hermione sighed. Theo had played the perfect gentleman in every way and charmed everyone. But for some reason, he just wasn't… him.

Ginny and Angelina leaned across the table, eyes wide and giggling like teenage girls.

"Gods, Hermione, he's incredibly handsome."

"And book smart of course, which counts the most," Audrey supplied with a wink.

"I'd let him read me any day," Parvati added dreamily.

Ron cleared his throat at her declaration. Parvati wiggled her eyebrows at him, challenging a response, and her best friend colored like a tomato.

"Well, though Harry and I do not share his views on the Holyhead Harpies new Beaters and the Falmouth Falcons expulsion of their best Chaser, he's not bad."

"What Ron means to say," Bill chimed in, rolling his eyes at his brother's maturity, or lack thereof, "is that he's great. We all really like Theo."

"And I 'ope you all really like pies too!" Seamus called with George and Theo on his heels, towing Mrs. Weasley's creations in hand.

The eldest female Weasley cut slices as the honorary guests and family settled back into comfortable conversation. When Molly placed Theo's dessert before him, he rewarded her with a dazzling smile, causing her to flush and tell him he was a doll. He responded by telling Molly how delicious her food was and asked if she'd be his personal chef.

My, Theo sure knew his way around a woman.

Hermione studied him, from his sharp nose to his observant jade eyes. She liked the way his wavy brown hair fell, and she was even compelled to brush it from his face. But that would only make him want to snog her – and she didn't really want that right now. His knowing expressions, honesty, and intelligence were his shining qualities, but his eloquence and quick ability to make friends helped too.

"Hello? Hermione?"

"Uh- yes?"

"I thought you were off somewhere else. You looked terribly pensive, and I didn't want to disturb you."

"You didn't," she replied with a smile, and rested her head on Theo's shoulder.

_Traitor traitor traitor TRAITOR!_

She shot up, looking about warily.

"Hermione, you look as though you've just seen Voldemort back from the dead."

She glared at Angelina's smart-aleck grin, but felt Theo shudder beneath her.

"Theo, is everything alright?"

He grimaced.

"I-I- It's silly."

"You know you can tell me anything," Hermione offered, pursing her rosy lips.

"I guess I'm still not comfortable with hearing _His_ name."

"Why not?" Seamus interjected, furious, "You were one of his followers!"

"SEAMUS!" Hannah scolded, her cheeks tinged pink from the embarrassment of his outburst, "Not here."

"He makes a point, Hannah. You were one of his followers, I know as much. We even dueled during the final battle and you sit here as if nothing ever happened, as though I never fought you."

"Shut up, Ron!"

"And why should I, 'Mione? You invite a former Death Eater to dinner and don't expect us to ask him questions like, oh, I don't know, why exactly you're dating someone whose blood disgusts you?"

"Ron…" Harry warned.

He didn't need Ron to blow any information about their investigation. It was bad enough that Hermione's life was on the line, but he couldn't let a possible suspect know they were on to him. If Rodolphus and Rabastan were even telling the truth…

Nott's jaw visibly clenched and he snarled back.

"So what I fought for the other side Weasley! Big whoop! I can't sit here as a changed man? Is that not good enough for you?"

"It most certainly isn't!" Seamus seethed, "You don't get it, do you? You mur'ered our friends and family mate."

"And your side killed too! Open your eyes Finnegan. Last time I checked we fought a fucking war where everyone killed each other to _survive_. We were kids, damnit!"

"Ron, Theo, Seamus, please stop!" Hermione pleaded, taking Theo's arm. He shrugged her off.

"At least we fought for the right cause."

"I fought for the only cause I knew Weasley! I was forced to sleep, breathe, and drink my hatred for those of lowly blood. You don't think I see my mistakes now? I can't help that I was born the son of a Death Eater. Do you think I could just waltz up to my father and tell him I wasn't interested in fighting for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"If you wanted to, you could have. I can't forgive you, or forget that you silently tormented my friends, that you called Hermione a mud-mudb- "Ron retorted spitefully.

"It's not as simple as black and white, Weasley. You'd have done the same thing!"

"Like hell I would have!"

Ron and Theo drew their wands at equal speed and everyone jumped from their seats. Bill and Fleur rounded up the kids and ushered them quietly upstairs, and Percy – ever the coward – Apparated with Audrey to his apartment as fast as he could.

Harry stood protectively in front of Ginny and the rest of the women snuck to the kitchen, watching from a distance.

"Put your wands away!" Hermione yelled, "This is absolutely ridiculous."

But the men just continued as if she hadn't spoken at all.

"Fuck you Weasley, and you too Finnegan. You have no idea what it's like to be-"

"To be what? A cold-blooded bastard? A murderer? You're right cause we don't."

"SCREW YOU!"

"And you deserve a cell in Azkaban just like your filthy fucking fath-"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Impendimenta!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Stop it! Both of you!"

"Get out of the way, Grang-"

"Sectumsempra!"

Theo staggered and collapsed beside Hermione's shaking body. He began to convulse in her arms and she felt her tongue go dry.

"Theo?" Ginny asked quietly, falling at his side.

She shrieked as the blood welled beneath Theo's now weedy complexion, and Harry tumbled next to his wife, calling the rest of the Weasleys for help.

"Holy fuck, Finnegan."

Hermione's senses suddenly kicked into overdrive as she saw the invisible knife marks appear beneath Theo's skin.

"Hospital," she croaked, "I've got to Floo him to Mungo's."

"I-I'm sorry 'arry. I jus' thought… you used it on Malfoy!"

"Yeah, once!" Ron bellowed, throwing Seamus lethal looks, "Years ago before he realized how dangerous it was!"

"Let's get him to the fireplace," Arthur instructed, trying to calm everyone amidst the chaos.

George grunted as he pulled Theo to his side and slung the Slytherin over his and Bill's shoulders.

"Mon pauvre…"

"Yeah, Fleur, I hope he's going to be okay," Parvati murmured.

The two brothers, Harry, and Hermione squeezed into the fireplace.

"I'm really sorry, 'ermione."

"Finnegan, I think it's best you leave."

Seamus crossed his arms defiantly at Hermione's bluntness, but knew it was best to take his jacket from Hannah and Side-Along Apparate home.

"I hope we're not too late," Hermione whispered, eyes blurred with unshed tears.

The last thing Theo remembered in his lucidity was her lips brushing ever so slightly across his left temple.

* * *

"For the umpteenth time, Hermione," Harry sighed irately, "I don't know how Theo's doing, and the more you ask, the more irritated I'll be."

Hermione crossed her arms at a peeved Harry and sunk lower in her chair. She couldn't help acting so cranky; she wasn't running on much sleep after all.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione rubbed her tired eyes and looked up at the healer who stood before her. She clambered to her feet.

"How is Theo? He's fine right? When can I take him home? Can I see him?"

"Relax, Miss Granger. He's stable now, and that's all that matters. We'll have to keep him in seclusion for a while as some healers mend some internal tissue scarring, but he'll be out in a few days."

She sighed in relief.

"Now dear," the healer advised, "Let's get you some warm pumpkin juice and send you home, alright?"

Harry appeared at her side and put his arm around his best friend's lithe waist, drawing her in close. He kissed her cheek that was pallid from worry, and answered the healer,

"Yeah, let's get her something to drink."

Fifteen minutes later, a scowling Hermione nursed the tepid pumpkin juice in her arms and cursed whoever made such a drink so damn… tasty. She wanted to wait outside Theo's door and be the first to greet him when he awoke. She knew he'd have done that for her despite any obstacle that lay in his path. Yet here she was, sitting in the healers' canteen, deprived of precious hours of sleep, and drinking juice.

It was all her fault that he was in Mungo's anyway.

_Damnit Finnegan! Let's see if you even have a job in __**my **__department next week…_

Hermione's petite body wracked with grief, and she slurped down the remains of her pumpkin juice. She waggled her tongue when the last of the thick delectable liquid drip-drip-dripped to her tongue, and frowned.

She dropped her cup on the table and looked around slyly; there was only an unsuspecting Harry Potter snoring beside her to guard his own unfinished mug.

"Accio pumpkin juice!"

The drink flew to her hand and she simpered, content at having this liquid drug in her hands.

She tied her uncontrollable curls behind her face, and rested her head on the arm of her chair, wondering about Malfoy. Harry told her at dinner that Lucius had been released from Azkaban and was now in Draco's custody. Though she despised his father with every fiber of her being, she was curious to know how much the elder Malfoy had changed. Was it worth a trip to the Manor? Probably not, she answered herself.

Even while praying for Theo, she couldn't seem to rid a pair of haunting grey ashen eyes from her thoughts. Not to mention his soft lips that managed to part hers so easily, and pillage her mouth, drinking her in. She'd felt supple in his arms, and though Hermione was one of the most in control women, she knew he could have her begging and whimpering for more if he wanted to.

He just had that bloody affect on her, and Hermione despised it. Abhorred it. Resented it.

She didn't even like his personality. Okay, he was somewhat attractive, and intelligent she supposed. His impeccable tastes and predilection for all books from Muggle to Werewolf didn't help her cause either. He always kept her on her toes, never just agreeing for the sake of agreeing – he most likely argued just for the sake of arguing with her. She liked when his face crinkled into one of those rare – _exceedingly_ rare- honest smiles. She even liked his slight air of arrogance, _and _when he scowled…

If Hermione was going to be frank with herself, which she wasn't, Draco was a perfect match for her despite his beliefs.

That is, until, he opened his big pompous mouth.

But his mouth. Oh, his soft warm mouth…

Alright, this was getting ridiculous. Immediately uncomfortable and positively disturbed by her own devious thoughts, Hermione leapt from her seat to find the bathroom.

She left Harry's keeled over snoring form and stuck her curly head out the door. Bollocks, she had no clue where the bathroom was in this white washed labyrinth! Hermione meandered down the hallway of flickering white lights and unnamed doors, shading her eyes from the blinding brightness of it all.

As she turned the corner, she stopped dead, hearing voices coming from the end of the ward. Hermione and her insatiable curiosity followed the sounds till she could hear each individual voice. A door clicked shut. There was a shuffle of feet, a heavy bereft sigh, and muffled tones. She moved closer and pressed herself against the wall; the voices cleared.

"She's not getting any better I'm afraid. She's stopped responding to our potions or spells too."

"Yet she remains stable?"

"She may look like death, but don't let that deceive you…"

"It's a shame she shows no signs of healing."

Silence.

"He visits her during lunch breaks, always with white roses in his hand, everyday like clockwork. He's such a gentleman but the agony in his eyes makes me want to shake her and tell her to wake up, if not for herself but to save her own son."

_No…_

"He's bringing a visitor next week, you know."

"Who?"

"Didn't say."

_It couldn't be…_

"Youthful reticence."

"I think he's rather beautiful in a striking regal sort of way. Just like his mother."

Hermione heard an elderly chuckle.

"He's far too young for you, Betty."

As the soft laughter faded to naught, Hermione tried to steady her breathing, clutching the wall behind her to sturdy herself. There was a niggling in the back of her mind that confirmed her instincts were correct.

After all, her instincts were _always _correct.

Hermione needed to know who that patient was. She needed to see for herself.

She lurched towards the direction of the room, stopping stone cold as she reached the drawn white curtains.

She wondered if this was even legal, but let inquisitiveness get the better of her, and she reached for the doorknob. It was freezing to the touch, and Hermione wondered if that was some sort of caveat. She took a deep breath, looking both ways before opening the door and closing it quickly behind her.

She couldn't have possibly prepared herself for what she saw next.

There she was, as pale as death itself, her complexion as white and sallow as the freshest snow. The woman was unnaturally thin, her head appearing to devour the rest of her skin and bones. The sheets were drawn to the woman's waist – covering but outlining the knobs of her knees and length of each leg.

Hermione's sorrow-filled eyes flicked up to her face. She was, as the nurse had rightly said, simply beautiful. Scarily so. She was taken by the woman's striking complexion, pale and ethereal from the half-light of the hallway; the sharp curve of her Patrician nose; her gaunt Slavic cheekbones and pale parted lips.

Hermione's feet were planted to the floor. She wanted to run from here, forget what she had seen and return to her beloved pumpkin juice, but her body would simply not respond. She was enchanted, bewitched by the breathtaking woman. As she finally tore her eyes from Narcissa Malfoy, regaining control of her body, a tall shadow covered Hermione's own.

She didn't have to see his tell tale white blond hair or his angry grey eyes to know he was here. His baritone drawl resonated in the small room, misleadingly flat and emotionless.

"And what, pray tell, are you doing in my mother's room, Granger?"

* * *

**To look forward to: **Hermione snogs and gets kinky with (insert name here), Parvati accepts a date, and Lucius Malfoy unexpectedly visits Malfoy Industries and has a run in with our favorite feisty little heroine.

To my loyal and dedicated readers who haven't left me, even when I hadn't written for months.

Take as my humble apology, the longest chapter I've ever written!

*winks*

Review if you want to see Hermione get it onnnn!


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